


Roommate, Soulmate

by poynter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, College, Drugs, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Growing Up, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Slash, Partying, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 78,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poynter/pseuds/poynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam finds out his college roommate is also his soulmate; unfortunately, his journey to self-acceptance isn't as easy as getting his future predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I originally published this on fictionpress, but since I'm probably going to be more active on AO3, I decided to move it over here. There's about twelve chapters written so far, and I'll slowly get them up in the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

 "Force my hand. Relinquish the truth. I'm prepared for the autonomy of fate."

She squints and rubs my forehead with the flaky pads of her thumbs. She's looking for something. She can't find it. It happens, I guess, I just didn't think it would happen to me.

"Reaffirm."

I swear, she's been asking me to reaffirm for an hour. Eyes closed, I tell her, "The door is open." Taps on my temples signal for the next affirmation. "Light spills through." I know she's frowning, it's pulling all those wrinkles down her face. "All is divulged–"

"Male. Brunette."

Fuck. _Fuck_.

My eyes are open now. She must notice the panic, because she raises an eyebrow. "Y'want me to continue?"

I open my mouth, I want to say the first word that comes out, but there's nothing. I nod.

"Your age. Optimistic. Energetic. Continue?"

Suddenly it feels like she's far away, like she's squeezing the life out of me from miles away. I blink twice. She's still sitting on the velvet stool, fingers pressing into my malleable skin.

"Okay."

"You've only just become close with him, he's fresh on your mind, you spend a lot of time with him– continue?"

I'm just being greedy now. "Yes."

"Let's see... F-name–" She pauses. "You know?"

"I know."

She's smiling now. The bitch is _smiling._ "It may not be him."

"Just say it."

She says his name, but somehow she doesn't move her lips when she says it; the word just falls out. I pay her and leave with Hadds and we don't talk the entire walk back.

Hadds breaks the silence when we're standing outside his dorm room. "You believe your soulmate prediction?"

"No. Do you?"

"I do." He answers too quickly. There's concern somewhere in his eyes, but he's still smiling his winning smile. He says goodnight and I say I'll see him in class. Before I leave, I reach into the second-floor RA's free-for-all condom stash like I always do when I come around to the Burns dorm building. I take one for me and one for Finn. When I make it to our room in Silverton, I toss mine in my nightstand drawer and I place his under the comforter on his bed. He'll find it when he gets back on Wednesday. Dick. Fucking _dick_ faced, _shit_ headed– oh, there it is. There's the emotion I couldn't find on the walk back from Madame Julisa's reading. It was just hiding under Fins's comforter with the extra-lubricated condom, gnawing on bedbugs to stay alive until I could drag it out by the ankles and invite it into my headspace.

_I don't hate him._

I'm staring at his poster with all the caricatures of famous writers getting drunk at a bar together. I'm remembering that time we got high and he couldn't get over the fact that Harper Lee was sipping on a cocktail labeled "Tequila Mockingbird." He started up this weird conspiracy theory about how Lee is Shakespeare in disguise. Then he started laughing and laughing, and I sat in the corner watching. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't remember how. I was too high, too busy thinking about how thick the air felt. It was too warm in the room, and I was fixated on how cold I wished it could be.

I don't hate him; that's not possible. He's my roommate. He's my first and best friend at school. Am I envious of him? Sure. Finn's a coaster. He glides on the tips of his toes, the backs of his heels, the palms of his hands– whatever position he's put in. I'm a coaster, too. I'm the kind you put drinks on when company's over, put aside for a few months, and eventually forget about until you notice the lunar-eclipse-shapes on your new table.

Envy, yes. Hate? I don't. I can't. But, God, I wish.

Him and Ava, _darling sweetie honey-pie_ Ava, are off in the Hamptons. Our school's spring break doesn't match up with hers, so he's spending an extended weekend drinking cheap wine and having cheap sex at her family's vacation house. Too bad he didn't get my condom-gift in time, huh? Shit.

I miss him. It makes Julisa's shitty vision even worse. Everyone tells me she's never gotten a prediction wrong unless the "soulmate" in question finds out, but that's hard to believe. Fate can't just put its hand on the stove and then take it off, right? That kinda defeats the purpose of destiny, right?

I'm gonna write her prediction down, I think. Scribble it on some notebook paper and shove it in his pillowcase or under his mattress so I won't know exactly when he'll find out. He'll read it and _know_ not to say anything and I'll be cured.

We'll be cured.


	2. Screwed

I don't know how to look at Finn when I see him again on Wednesday.

He meets Hadds and I at the dining hall wearing a jacket despite the seventy-five degree weather. Hadds comments on this and we share a chuckle– his vocalization is more of a cackle, my voice wavers– as Finn approaches our booth. Instead of looking at his face, I pretend his shoulder is incredibly attention-grabbing.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Tell me I'm tan."

Hadds is quick to answer. "You're pale as Death himself."

"Aww, Hadds. I see you haven't lost that wit since I've been gone." Finn sits beside me in the booth. "And how has my favorite roomie been? Did you miss the fuck out of me or not? If you say no, I swear, I'm gonna make Hadds's double dorm room into a triple."

"Oh, I've been–" _Experiencing an existential crisis?_ "Dismal. Absolutely dismal. My skies have been gray, I flooded our room with my salty, salty tears..."

"Yeah, you should've seen your RA try to figure out how to deal with that mess," Hadds throws in, jumping on my hyperbolic bandwagon.

"In that case, I have a quick mood fixer-upper." He unzips his jacket, revealing its true purpose– concealing a water bottle full of pink liquid.

"Oh, shit!" I hold the slightly-sticky bottle in my hand and get a whiff of what's inside.

Hadds gasps. "Santa! You came early this year!"

"Can I...?" I ask.

Finn snickers. "Dude, that's why I _brought_ it. I've been drunk all weekend. The little devil on my shoulder says that's the kind of streak that shouldn't stop."

"I think Alcoholics Anonymous would beg to differ, but who am I to judge? Cover me." Finn shields me from view of the rest of the dining hall. Outside food and drink is a big no-no here for this exact reason.

Drunk dinner continues without incident; we pass the bottle under the table and wind up eating three courses of shitty, re-heated food. Finn's liquor-soaked gift helps loosen the screws binding anxiety to my brain, and I'm able to talk and joke around as though my life is under control.

My humming head tries to convince me that I'm not just feeling comfortable around Finn because I've got a buzz on. _No no no_ , the numb thoughts say, _it's just showing how you really feel. You like Finn as a friend and a roommate and a damn good mixed-drink maker. You never had budding feelings in the first place, see? Awkwardness eliminated!_

It's wishful thinking, and I know it, but God, I fucking need to believe this right now.

•

A week before I visited Madame Julisa, I realized Finn is attractive in a thousand ways and intriguing in a million more. The moment that this fact poisoned my mind is the last clear memory I have, and also my last sober night in three months.

Alcohol was scarce during our second weekend at school. We were all eighteen, fake-ID-less, and naïve. We assumed that all college parties had unlimited beer and some sort of anti-police bubble that allowed underage drinking to commence without interruption. Looking back on it, I think we just watched too many teen-party movies.

We showed up to the acclaimed "Soccer House" just past eleven P.M. when the kegs had run dry and the people who lived there were about to head to the bars. While I was sitting on the couch, stone-cold-sober and feeling out of place, Finn flirted his way up to some girl's best friend's bedroom and moseyed his way into their weed stash. He explained this as he took my hand and lead me upstairs.

I was someone who never touched weed until a week before I headed off to school– what many called a "late bloomer" and an "ex-straightedge fuck-in-a-box" (that nickname is copyright the first guy who watched me try to light up a bowl with no previous pot-knowledge). Considering this fact, I did not feel comfortable when Finn offered me a hit from a five-foot bong. Instead, I quietly watched Finn take a hit and exhale with a chuckle, which made the random flirty-girl chuckle, then she took an exorbitantly long hit and went downstairs to find someone.

That night, I felt something. I felt it when I sat against the dresser in someone else's bedroom and watched Finn fight against the weight on his eyelids and the slowness of his breath.

"That was good shit," he told me. "I think it was, at least. My town has shitty weed, I think, y'know, the shit they have here is like... next level."

"Yeah," I agreed.

He drew himself up against the bed frame and smiled a small, self-assured smile. "Thanks for coming up here with me."

I tilted my head to the side. "No need to thank me, man. Roomies stick together, right?"

"Roomies stick together. _Right_ on. _"_ We bumped fists. He laughed, I didn't. "But really. I don't know that girl at all. She could've– like– what those murderous people do. Kill people." He brought two hands to his heart. "She could've killed _me._ "

"Hey, don't speak too soon. What if this weed is laced with PCP or something?"

He widened his eyes and he inched his body closer to mine. "Do you..." He paused and looked at the door. "Do you think she would do that to me? Like, do you think she'd wanna hurt me?"

The vulnerability in his eyes was something I'd never seen from him before. He was stoned and scared and open to any attack, but he looked at me like I could defend him. He looked at me like I was something solid, something safe.

His expression made me understand that he was solid and safe for me too.

I talked less for the rest of the night, and I moved slower, but with more purpose. Suddenly, I wanted to think through my every move.

After grabbing two slices of Sicilian pizza and six garlic knots on Main Street, I guided Finn back to our dorm room and put him to bed before he'd gotten through two bites of his food. As I put his unfinished midnight snack in our mini-fridge, he grunted loudly. "I've been meaning to ask you," he stated. "Does it bug you if I sleep shirtless?"

I turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his button-up. Words became garbled in my throat. "It doesn't," I croaked.

"Good. Because that's what I like to do."

He disregarded the buttons on his shirt and pulled it over his head. I stared at him a little too long before bidding him goodnight.

After brushing my teeth, crawling into bed, and laying awake for an hour, I realized: I was _definitely_ screwed.


	3. Fiery Orange, Electric Blue

Ava is smart, witty, and reeks of high school attitude. Maybe I'm just saying that because she's been with Finn since the end of eleventh grade. Maybe I'm just saying that because I'm pretending I don't wish I was in her shoes.

Those "shoes" are almost always sneakers, by the way, because she'll swing by to use our school's gym since "the treadmills have TVs and the receptionist isn't the annoying girl from my physics class," she says.

She's good-looking and fit. When she wears heels, she casts a shadow on Finn. He hates it, but he keeps his distaste concealed when they're together.

"I love you, darling," he says to her on the phone every night.

"I miss you, too," he adds before he hangs up.

"How often do you guys fuck?" Hadds asks at least once a week.

Finn shrugs and laughs and never answers. He's a private guy, at least until he gets drunk and we make him talk about his latex allergy at length.

Ava's been around a lot lately. I don't hate it, and I don't hate her, but after the Soccer House party and the Madame Julisa fiasco, seeing her at my dorm room door is not a comfortable experience.

"Liam!" she exclaims before pulling me in for a one-handed hug.

"Ava!" I try to return her enthusiasm, but I sound a lot like a late-night talk show host who doesn't give a fuck about their special guest of the evening.

"I'm guessing Finny is still at the library?"

"You know Fins," I say. "Sometimes he tries to be a studious motherfucker."

We spend an uncomfortable half hour alone together as I try to seem invested in the detailed descriptions of her Biology class homework and she feigns interest in where I buy my linens. Eventually I excuse myself to "go get a snack at the student union," but I actually sneak away to Hadds's dorm for beer and weed.

"Ava's not _that_ bad," Hadds tells me.

"I know she's not," I groan. "She's just a little... I don't know. Lighter, please?" He tosses it to me. I take a hit, exhale slowly, then pass him the bowl. It takes me a second to find the right words. "She's a little fake."

He chuckles. Smoke billows out from his parted lips. "She is, I agree. What are you getting at?"

Hadds is higher than me. He's three-fourths through his beer, and I've barely made it to the label on the bottle. Plus he's my closest friend besides Finn, he's a good listener, and he likes the same, stupidly obscure indie bands and films that I enjoy. I examine my choices: I could shrug off this issue and keep my frustration inside until I internally combust, or be truthful with the only friend who consistently smokes me up for free.

I decide to test the waters. "What are _you_ getting at?"

"Man, I dunno. It's like... you sound weirdly jealous."

"Maybe I am."

He sets the bowl down beside him. "I fucking knew it."

My breaths get shallow. Oh, God, nevermind. I'm not ready for this confession in any way, shape, or fucked-up form. I'm ready to chug my beer and keep all the smoke from the rest of the bowl in my lungs until I suffocate. "He's my best friend," I say quickly, hearing my unsteady words trip over each other. "I just– I wanna spend more time with him when we're not interrupted by her, I guess."

"Oh!" Hadds exclaims. "Oh, yeah, totally. I feel you. In high school, my, uh, _friend_ started hanging out with this other guy all the time. Lemme tell you, it was devastating."

"Yeah, I guess it's like that."

He laughs. "Yeah, just like that." He sparks the lighter and I pretend there was no sarcasm in his comment.

•

* * *

**Harrison Adds:**

_Is she gone yet?_

_**Received at 10:12 PM** _

* * *

**You:**

_almost. just start walking over to Silverton and i'll let you in when she leaves_

_**Sent at 10:13 PM** _

* * *

I have headphones in my ears, but there's no music playing because I'm pretty sure Ava and Finn had an argument earlier and I want to hear bits and pieces of their drama; however, they don't talk much as they gather Ava's clothes and stuff them into her backpack.

Finn breaks the silence to tell Ava to call him when she gets back. She nods. There's a quick kiss and then she's gone, but Finn keeps staring at the door after she closes it, and I see his shoulders rise and fall like he's sighing.

A couple minutes later, I head downstairs to grab Hadds and his roommate, Adelis, from outside of Silverton.

I've only hung out with Adelis a few times– never one-on-one, Hadds has always been present– but from what I've gathered, he's nothing less than a five-foot-five, blonde-haired time-bomb who's constantly seconds away from amping up the tension in the room on purpose. Hadds describes him as a social butterfly with flaky tendencies. I always try to remind myself of Hadds's sweet-sounding summation, but no matter how far down I have to look to meet Adelis's gaze, the guy always manages to terrify me.

Today is no exception. I barely utter a greeting before he starts talking over me. "Shit, God, Liam, you're gonna hit the frickin' wall with this one. I can't wait to show you what we brought you– can we run to your room? C'mon, let's sprint!"

And then he just fucking sprints up five flights of stairs. Hadds and I try to keep up, but I'm about ten stairs up when I decide I value the breath in my lungs over Adelis's enthusiasm.

"What the f... the _fuck_ could be so damn great... that he has to... has to run so fast?" I puff.

"You'll see, man. It's kind of awesome." Hadds isn't as out of breath as I am.

"It better be like... like a shitload of alcohol, or an eighth of weed or something..."

Hadds smirks. "It's something like that."

"It's _godly_ ," Adelis tells me as soon as I close the door to my room. Five purple pills rattle around in his outstretched palm, catching the light and glittering like someone took them to the craft store before filling them with amphetamines. "Potion Number Nine. Or Nine, or Cupid, or Aphrodite, or whatever the hell you wanna say. Lemme tell you, it feels exactly like it sounds. It's frickin' love on your tongue, bitch." His smile almost out-glimmers the shiny capsules.

Finn picks one up. "So you're saying it's some variation on ecstasy, right? Is this sketchy, rip-off Molly?"

Adelis looks downright offended. I embrace for an explosion, but he just scoffs. "If you're not interested a drug that'll make you feel like you're getting your dick sucked by the Lord, that's fine with me."

"No, no, I'm interested. I just wanna make sure you're not gonna give me something I've already tried, but with a fancy new name slapped on it." Finn squints at the pill. "And a fancy new coating. Is that actual glitter?"

"Nah, I think it's flecks of Jesus-semen," Hadds says, then stifles a giggle and glances at me.

"If you don't believe me, Finnean..." Adelis reaches forward and forcibly curls Finn's fingers over the pill. "Take a free sample. You too, Liam." He hands me one. My palm tingles beneath it.

"Are you selling this stuff now?" I ask, pretending I don't feel uncomfortable about having this unspecified substance chilling out in my clutches.

Adelis shrugs. "Maybe. Possibly. We'll see." He winks. "Try one. You'll love it. It's like falling in love with everything you want to... no, everything you _should_ fall in love with. Like your subconscious is exploding with adoration for any-fucking-thing."

"Like the way humans should be," Hadds interjects. "Y'know, grateful for everything in the world."

Adelis rolls his eyes. "Ugh, God, do you really gotta get all sentimental on my ass, Harrison?"

"Shut up, I'm just trying to make our sales pitch go over well." He smiles. Adelis smiles at him.

I know Adelis is gay and that Hadds fucks anything that'll fuck him back twice as hard, so I guess it's possible they're together. That being said, I can't see that relationship working out in a way that will ever make either of them happy.

Despite Adelis's pleas, Finn and I decline taking our "free samples" right now. Instead, we hang on to the pills so we can take them at a more appropriate time.

After Hadds and Adelis leave, Finn calls Ava. The conversation seems to be comprised mainly of her talking and Finn voicing quiet statements of agreement. I pretend to be engrossed in my astronomy text book when he raises his voice and says "you know that's not true" like he's angry and hurt at the same time. Eventually he exits our room, still on the phone. I hear his muffled exclamations echo down the hallway.

An hour later, he's still gone. I give up on studying, stuff a towel under the door and smoke a bowl on my own. Two hours later, I can barely keep my eyes open. I turn all the lights off and fall into bed, fully clothed and curled up above the covers.

I bolt upright when Finn bumps into his desk as he re-enters the room. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when he ambles into my field of view, I see his toothy grin before anything else.

"Hey, dude, what's up? What are you doing?" His voice is soft. It sounds as though everything heavy is filtered out of his tone before he speaks.

"I was– I, uh, I smoked, then I fell asleep." He crouches at the side of my bed so that his head is level with mine. My mouth is dry. "Where were you?" I mutter.

"Gone. Away." His expression looks like he's stoned out of his mind, but he locks eyes with me like he's in tune with my mind. Maybe a little too in tune. "I was feeling the– the earth. The stars, the... it's a beautiful night, Liam, it's beautiful. Wish you were out there with me."

I grip the side of my mattress. Finn slowly picks up his hand. I stare as his fingers caress my knuckles. My skin burns in response.

"Where were you?" I repeat, trying to distract myself from the chills resonating in my shoulder blades.

"Outside." His stare is tugging at my pupils, begging for my undivided attention. The tone of his gaze is cold, but not distant.

"Were you somewhere on campus?" He doesn't answer; he just tips his head closer to mine. Thunder rumbles between us, warning me that something buried deep in my head wants to leap out of my body and into the space separating our bodies.

I clear my throat. "You... did you take that pill? The one that Adelis..."

Finn smiles and inches toward me. I stare at the lower half of his face. He lets no sound escape from his lips; he just forms syllables with his mouth and lets the warm air stain my teeth and leave thunder rumbling behind my eyes, behind my forehead, in my veins and shrieking that same warning from before, sputtering and slipping on the events about to transpire–

_Shhh,_ Finn mouths at me.

He leans in.

I don't move away.

The air snaps in half when he kisses me.

Lightning in his body strikes my chest and thrusts the buzzing of his lips against my stagnant mouth and static skin. I feel like I'm experiencing every bit of my life in the fraction of time we share searching for something within our physical contact. I'm restless, calm, anxious, and serene as I attempt to wring the seconds out and force them to sink into my skin by thinking– oh God, no– by _struggling_ to figure out how I can possibly live my life now that I know the texture of Finn's tongue as he pushes bubbling, fiery orange colors onto my dull, pastel-tinted insides and they burst into electric-blue sparks and flames upon impact–

_How_ the fuck–

_What_ would he–

_Has_ he ever thought about–

_Why_ is he stopping–

_Why is he stopping–_

He lets our lips linger for one final instant, then pulls away.

Our shared moment ends quicker than I'll ever let myself remember.

My shaking fingers provide rhythmic background music for Finn's retreat to his side of the room. He's smiling so fucking wide, unaware of the deep caverns he left in my skin and behind my teeth. Blood pulses loudly in my ears; it's too loud for me to hear all of the laughter Finn manages before he collapses on his mattress and turns his body toward the wall, shutting me out for the night.

I stay sitting up with my back hunched forward. I shiver as I stare at him. Numbness affects every part of my body that he's ever touched. After I finally lie down in bed, my mind paces around our dorm room floor for hours and hours until I can't physically feel curious anymore.

Eventually my body refuses to indulge my foolish adrenaline rush any further. The sun rises outside our window. Emotions vibrate in my mind, but consciousness slips from my grasp, and I give in.


	4. Lucky

Back in fifth grade when D.A.R.E. was doing a program at my elementary school, I won an essay contest with a prompt that essentially asked kids to explain why any form of intoxication equals certain death. My winner's certificate said I wrote the "Most Outstanding Argument Against the Abuse of Drugs and Alcohol." Now I'm eighteen and drunk at eight in the morning and I just remembered that the certificate is still in a box under my bed at home.

Finn's alarm woke me at six forty-five and I wasn't able to fall back asleep. The moment he left for class, I jumped out of bed and took a shot of cheap tequila I bought off some sophomore last weekend. Then I took another shot, and then one more. Nausea is creeping in and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol battling against my empty stomach or my thoughts battling against my body.

After downing the fourth shot that I almost spew all over my desk, I text Hadds.

* * *

**You:**

hey you up?

_**Sent at 8:48 AM** _

* * *

I stare at the bottle, then at Finn's bed, then my shaking hands until he texts back.

* * *

**Harrison Adds:**

Are. You. KIDDING me right now

_**Received at 8:50 AM** _

* * *

**Harrison Adds:**

I am sort of awake but only because you forced me to be

_**Received at 8:50 AM** _

* * *

**Harrison Adds:**

I don't have class until 2 PM so I'm going to assume you're only waking me up because the world's about to explode or some crazy shit?

_**Received at 8:51 AM** _

* * *

I need to talk to him. He's the only person who can calm me down. He's the only person who I _can_ talk to about this mess.

* * *

**You:**

ha im sorry, can you meet me at cabs at noon? just need to talk

_**Sent at 8:54 AM** _

* * *

**Harrison Adds:**

Yes. We shall talk at the dining hall at noon. Good night/morning.

_**Received at 8:54 AM** _

* * *

Noon should be safe. That's when Finn usually stops at our room between classes; by that time I'll be tucked away in a booth at the dining hall, ripping my brain open in front of Hadds, and–

Oh, God, _no_. Who am I fucking kidding? Since when have I ever been able to spill my guts to anyone about anything?

When I got my first girlfriend in ninth grade I didn't tell my friends for two weeks because I felt weird that I met her on Myspace. I've never told my mom about the time she held her work's Christmas party at our house and one of her drunk coworkers said she wanted to take me for a "test drive" despite the fact that I was only sixteen. And no one knows I made myself throw up during senior year just so I could feel something. No one will ever know about that. No one needs to know.

I have to drink more.

I hold the bottle to my face and get a whiff of the nail-polish-dirty-coin-rotten-lime-bottom-of-a-shoe scent emanating from the liquid inside. Nevermind. I reach for an old box of Cheerios instead. I just need food in my stomach, right? Then I can self-medicate and not feel like I'm going to vomit.

Fighting off drunkenness, I work like a machine: plunging my hand into the box, stuffing my face, chewing three times, then repeating before I have time to focus on whether or not the room is spinning. My Cheerio-assembly line preoccupies me for a little while before I lay my head down on my desk and drift into a deep, dream-less sleep.

•

A half hour ago, I did not plan on telling Hadds about what happened last night. A half hour ago, I convinced myself to take irrational action to wiggle out of possibly telling my friend the truth. A half hour ago I popped Potion Number Nine.

It's just past noon now and I've come to realize that the lights in the dining hall have never looked this bright... or pink. Have they always been a little pink?

"Why were you up at eight in the morning, anyway? You usually sleep in, like me," says Hadds. Or... did he just say that?

Okay, hold up. I _know_ he just said that sentence. I saw his mouth move and I understood what he said, but now I can't remember what he told me or what he meant by his words and I think the way he's staring at me is making my hands feel warm and–

"The fuck, Liam."

"The fuck, Liam," I say back to him. He looks at me. I try to look back at him, but the wall behind him is yellow-pink-green and beautiful and I want to stare at that instead.

Wait. Shit. I totally just said my own name when I repeated him. That's why he's looking at me weird, must be, unless he knows that I'm–

"You're tripping, right? That's why you wanted to talk?"

He knows! He _knows_! That's so embarrassing! Fucking shit, why did I think this was a good alternative to like, _actually_ talking about important shit?

"Liam."

Now he's gonna make fun of me every time I see him.

"Liam."

My fingers are _so_ warm.

"Dude."

I put my hands on the underside of the table. They suddenly feel cold and tingly and like they turned into felt. I exhale deeply.

"You did Nine, didn't you?"

"No, no, no." My felt-hands are getting warm again. I try to inconspicuously grab a metal napkin holder to cool them down, but Hadds's chuckle makes me jump.

"Yeah, you definitely did."

"No, that's not why I wanted to talk to you, that's dumb," I mumble the sentence so quickly, I'm not sure if I said everything in order. "I wanted to tell you I kissed Finn last night."

The words come out of my mouth too easily. I think my heart is racing in a bad way– but that can't be right. My body's exploding with infinite possibilities, there's no way I'm anxious about telling him this stupid-little-tiny thing that probably only matters to me.

"You... _what_?" His eyes look so different from one another. One's happy and one's upset. Now one's angry and one's excited. Now they're both confused.

"I kissed Finn last night. Well, he kissed me. It was weird, I think he was high. Or drunk. Or..." Okay, phrase this next question correctly, don't draw any suspicion: "What's it like to be on that Potion Number Nine stuff? I don't know the feeling." Hadds tilts his head to the side. "I'm only asking because I think he was on it, not because I've done it. My pill's still where I put it, in my desk, hasn't moved from there..." Nailin' it.

"Whatever form of intoxicated he was, it doesn't matter. He _kissed_ you? He's not– I mean– he's dating Ava. There must have been some build-up to the... the kiss. Like, were you guys flirting or what?"

He's _so_ into my story and I'm getting pumped. I think my head is physically getting bigger from hearing him beg me for details, my brain feels so huge but also weightless– wait, I think my whole body is inflating now– oooh, my God, I think my skin is floating.

I need to lie down.

I slowly lower myself onto my back as the noise in the dining hall and Hadds's muffled exclamations simmer down to a muted hum. My body is contained by the stiff booth, but my consciousness is expanding to fill the room and mingle with the air. The ceiling drifts past my eyes and I want to join it, I want to live up there with all of the ceiling tiles and the hanging lamps and the infrastructure of the building itself, so I close my eyes and let my body divide and divide and divide until I morph into pure light.

_This is Nine,_ my brain sings. _This is Nine,_ the walls of my mind echo. _This is Nine, and I'll never be the same._

•

Without Hadds to guide me to Silverton, I'm pretty sure I would've tried to float there on Nine-fueled wings. When we get to my room, he forces me to take a shower. "Try to make yourself throw up while you're in there," he tells me. "Shouldn't have taken the whole damn pill in one gulp– didn't Adelis mention that?"

Everything I see is covered in fog and every sensation is like a shot of fire or ice. While I'm showering, someone flushes the toilet in the stalls. I bite my loofah to sustain the shock. Dorm showers are enough of a temperature-changing rollercoaster as it is, but now it's like my coaster-car has gone off the tracks and I'm about to careen into the parking lot.

The fog has almost thinned out when I exit the shower. In my room, Hadds is sitting on my bed with a textbook cradled in his lap. He peers up at me without lifting his head. "How's the drowned rat?"

"Drowned rat?" I question. He points at my alarm clock. It's past two. Dear God. That was the longest shower of my life, and I was too busy expecting imminent death to fully enjoy it. "Oh, shit, don't you have class now?"

"I skipped to make sure you didn't die."

"Thanks."

"Small price to pay for not living with endless guilt," he quips.

I sigh, sit at my desk, and rub my temples. "So, on a scale of one to 'that was the worst fucking idea ever,' how badly did I fuck up by taking that entire pill?"

"Can't compute. Scale's broken," Hadds confirms. "Your first mistake was refusing to portion the thing. Your second was taking it on an empty stomach, and your third was trying to get fucked up to forget about what happened to you."

"I wasn't trying to forget about it," I say immediately.

"Numb the pain, whatever. Semantics." He nods toward Finn's side of the room. "When does he get out of class?"

"Three thirty."

"Great, so it's safe for me to do this." He draws his body up and looks me straight in the eyes before bellowing, "WHAT THE _FUCK_ OCCURRED LAST NIGHT BETWEEN YOU AND FINN?"

" _Shut the hell up_ ," I mutter through gritted teeth. My heart is pounding. _Between you and Finn. You and Finn. Finn._ Even his name is hard to hear right now. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it."

"You guys fucked."

"No, we didn't fuck."

"You kissed."

"We k– he kissed me."

Hadds sits back. "Weird."

"Huh?"

"Weird. Do you have a beer or something? I'll pay you for it."

"I have–" Vomiting comes to mind. "–some rank tequila."

"I'll take it."

Explaining the previous night is making me feel things I didn't realize my body was able to experience anymore. Excitement, strangely, is near the top of the list; anxiety edges it out by a smidgen.

Hadds's face changes as I sketch out the story. He's more stern than usual, less relaxed. Frigidness settles in his irises.

He doesn't say anything until I finish talking. Before he speaks, he takes a long sip from the bottle. I cringe. "Fuckin' lucky."

"What's lucky?"

He chuckles and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "You're lucky."

"How am I–"

"The one thing I want, you _get_. Just like that. Lucky." His voice wavers as he speaks.

He may as well have taken a hammer to the side of my head. "You like Finn?"

"Oh my f– one second." One more long sip from the bottle as the veins in my head pulse and I struggle to seem nonplussed. "I don't like Finn as anything more than an admittedly attractive friend. I'm talking about..." He gestures to himself. "Me, and my stupid, shitty life."

"I still don't follow."

"I like Adelis." The confession pains him. He's clutching the bottle with both hands. Now I understand why he wanted it. "I think... I think I've always liked him, but I never wanted to admit it. Like, how pathetic is that? It seemed so, I don't know, creepy I guess. My own feelings _scared_ me. Then..." He leans his head back on the wall and closes his eyes. "Madame Julisa said we were meant to be together. So now I'm back at square-motherfucking-one."

Hadds has never opened up to me. He's quick to muse on and on about one-night stands and crazy hookups of the past, but seeing legitimate emotion pour out of him is foreign, even frightening.

I stammer, unable to convey the thoughts in my head– I'm stuck between issuing an apology and condolences– but he fills the silence with laughter. "Don't waste your time thinking into it, that's my job."

"I'm not... I'm just shocked, that's all."

"Imagine how I felt." I think back to the day we went to Julisa's together. It was a joke, a bonding activity, a way to spend some money and kill some time. But when we walked out, Hadds said he believed his prediction. Why did he? Why didn't I?

"Dude, you know you gotta tell me now." I look at him blankly. "It's the rule of 'I showed you mine, you showed me yours,' y'know?" He smirks. I am instantly horrified.

_Lie_ , my mind screams. _Lie and save yourself the trouble. Tell him your soulmate is some girl from back home who you don't really know, tell him it's an old fling, tell him it's no one at all–_

"Take one guess," I dare him, eyes fixated on his grip on the tequila.

" _Finnean Wintercroft_."

He says the name in the most disgusting, mocking tone I've ever heard. I hate it, and for a second I hate Hadds for saying it like that, but I'm only experiencing the sensation of my pride getting choked to death.

I don't answer. Hadds gets smug. "Thought so."


	5. Team Adelis

_I'll never be the same,_ I told myself after I took Nine. Despite being temporarily convinced I'd transformed into a particle of light, I was right.

Finn acts like nothing happened. When he comes back to our room after class, I'm sitting on my bed encased in a cocoon of apprehension. "Dude, I passed Hadds on the way here," he says. "He was fucked up. Mad alcohol on his breath. I was like, 'where's the party and why wasn't I invited?'"

I hesitate before answering. "I may have had something to do with that." It takes effort to push the words out.

Finn looks me straight in the eyes. _How can he do that so easily?_ "Man! Are you drunk too? What did I miss out on?" he groans.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Then start." He sits on his bed, cross-legged and eager to listen. It reminds me of our first Friday night at school when we sat and talked until the sun came up.

From the way Finn is talking, the way he looks at me with innocence in his eyes, it's like he doesn't remember what happened last night. Maybe that's a rare side-effect of Potion Number Nine. Hopefully.

A few knots in my stomach detangle. My shoulders drop, shrugging off stress-induced tension. He doesn't remember anything, I guess. Now I can relax.

I plunge into the tale of today. I purposefully leave out my tequila-breakfast and start with the decision to take drugs and hang with Hadds. Finn laughs throughout the dramatic reenactment of my trip to the ceiling of the dining hall and back. I give him plenty of openings to interject his thoughts on Nine, but I receive nothing in return.

"Then Hadds drank a bunch of my tequila. You know, the stuff I got last weekend from Artie Lotz? He drank it, and he like, started spilling his guts to me."

"While you were still kissed?"

"Wh– what?"

"Kissed." The word makes my stomach drop. Finn pretends to adjust a pair of glasses, then speaks in an informational tone. "Adelis says when you're high on Nine, it's called being 'kissed.'"

"Cute," I murmur.

"Oh, only the cutest designer drugs will do for Adelis, I'm sure. Go on."

"Right. I wasn't, uh, 'kissed' when he was getting plastered. But he said..." I pause. The idea of telling Finn about Hadds's crush makes me uncomfortable, and it's not because I'd feel like I'm betraying Hadds.

I'm flat-out selfish. Revealing a roommate-crush secret is one step closer to hearing Finn tell me that he would never be like that, that _we_ would never be like that. And now– maybe because of last night, or Madame Julisa's prediction, or simply since I met him– I'm nursing the thought that we could be something. I can't risk losing the hope that's sprouting in the back of my barren mind.

"...I mean, he said a lot of shit. He ranted about the world and politics and all that stuff. I don't think he knew what he was saying."

"That's pretty funny," he says.

"Hilarious, actually," I lie.

•

The last time I thought I was a good person, I was still cutting hearts out of construction paper for valentines and watching cartoons every Saturday morning. I can't pinpoint exactly when I realized I'm a sack of shit, but I can say with certainty that it was a turning point in my life.

My sack-o'-shit level has rapidly increased as of late. I sense it moving up the scale every time I text Hadds that I can't hang out because I want to spend time with Finn. I get a little worse whenever Hadds and I chill even though I tell Finn I'm going to the library. Ever since I lied to Finn about Hadds's secret, I feel like my awfulness escalating with every lie that comes out of my mouth. Right now is an excellent example.

"So did you take Nine yet? Tell me you did."

Adelis's eyes are alight with a combination of excitement and overconfidence. My eyes are trying not to waver under pressure.

"Haven't," I say with a shrug.

"Boring," he sighs. "Finny?"

Finn is sitting on the opposite side of the room, calmly twirling a lighter around with his fingers. My breath catches on the pause he offers before replying, "haven't either."

Stomach's hitting the floor. Heart's being pulled out of my chest. Body. Not. Functioning. Adelis says something and Finn laughs but I can barely hear it. The fact that he didn't take it the other night... does that mean something? Or am I just hoping it does? God, I hope it does.

"Liam, are you listening?" Adelis asks sharply.

I make a point of not looking him in the eyes. "What is it?"

"Glow party tonight. Wear this." He tosses me a Hot Topic-worthy bracelet. It's rubbery, spiked, and translucent.

"Uhm, thanks, I guess."

Adelis sighs. "Liam, press the button on the inside." I do. It starts flashing shades of purple.

"Don't get me wrong, it's my inner scene kid's dream accessory, but why do you want us to wear these?" Finn questions. The bracelet is already adorning his wrist.

"Oh, I thought it'd be cute," Adelis tells us. "Like, a friendship thing or whatever. Now, please tell me you guys aren't gonna wear pajama pants to the party tonight."

I'd honestly considered the concept of being unapologetically comfortable all night, but Adelis's snide comment prompts me to pull on a pair of jeans and comb my hair.

We pregame in Burns with a couple of Adelis's half-in-the-bag friends who he refers to as Sef and Fitz. I notice that they're both wearing the blinking bracelets, too. Hadds, Finn, Adelis's friends and I share a blunt as we stumble out to the party; Adelis is the only one who turns it down.

Adelis is the definitive leader of the pack as the rest of us struggle to keep up. Once we push past a cloud of party-goers on the front lawn to get inside the party house, Adelis sits on the closest couch and grins. It's not a creepy smile, it's just... too happy, I guess.

Finn, Sef, and Fitz plunge into the bowels of the kitchen– which, judging by the amount of people packed into the room, must be where the keg is– but when I see Hadds stop squarely in front of Adelis, I pause too.

Hadds stares at his roommate and seems to lose the ability to express emotion. His mouth is a little open and his eyes are darting back and forth between one side of Adelis's face to the other, like he's searching for something.

Adelis finally notices. He looks Hadds dead in the eyes and mouths something I can't process through the haze in my head.

Hadds turns away from the couch, then leans into me. "He's kissed. He didn't tell me he was going to do that." His voice bleeds betrayal.

I watch Hadds walk to the kitchen like a zombie. I don't really understand why he's upset, but I still feel bad.

Finn returns from the keg with a cup full of beer for each of us. I sit beside him on the stairs. "I think Fitz is a drug dealer," Finn surmises.

"I mean, his name kind of makes him sound like one," I offer.

Finn shrugs. "I dunno, it reminds me of a ripped-up stuffed animal or something. Anyway, some dude stopped him after he got his beer and was all, 'you got it?' And Fitz, he like, pulled the guy aside. It was weird."

"Partying with drug dealers," I say wistfully. "Well, I definitely feel like a college kid now."

"Cheers!" Finn exclaims. We clink our solo cups together.

After a drink, we hit the floor for some ninety's R&B remix. As the song winds down, a girl taps me on my shoulder.

"Hey," she says, clearly out of breath from dancing. "Are you, you know...?"

She trails off like she's expecting me to fill in the blank with whatever adjective suits me today. Over my shoulder, Finn is staring at her too. "Uhm, what?"

"You know!" she insists, then indicates the lower half of my body with her hands. Oh man, is she gonna ask if I'm gay and make this night a shit-show for everyone involved? "Are you carrying?"

"Carrying _what_?" Finn blurts out from behind me. I stifle a giggle.

"Oh, sorry, nevermind," the girl mumbles.

"No, what is it?" I ask.

She looks down. "No, I'm sorry, it's like, I saw your bracelet, the flashy one, and I thought you were selling."

I glance back at Finn, whose forehead is crinkled up in confusion. "Selling what? Weed?" I question her.

"No, not... not weed. Sorry." She waves her hand dismissively and disappears into the throng.

"Weird," Finn mutters.

"Right?" I peer between a couple people and see Adelis entertaining a crowd from the couch. He's smirking, talking with his hands, and looking positively overjoyed. Kissed as fuck.

Then my eyes catch sight of Sef's bracelet, blinking bright purple. There's inches between his face and the face of the person talking to him. A quick shuffle of hands, the person walks away, and I see a few dollar bills in Sef's palms... _fuck_.

"Finn, where's Hadds?"

Finn stands on his tiptoes and scans the room. "In line for the bathroom. Why? Am I not good enough for you?" I can't roll my eyes dramatically enough to portray how untrue that is.

I interrogate Hadds about Adelis and his friends, but he's hesitant to answer. "Go ask him yourself," he grumbles, then gazes down at his feet.

"We both know he's not gonna tell me jack-shit," I retort. "Look, can you give me a... a hint or something?"

"A hint? Are you eight?"

"Hadds, come the fuck on and be real for a goddamn second." My tone is sharp and unforgiving without my permission. It gets his attention, though; his expression softens when we lock eyes. Maybe he's thinking about everything he's told me and how I could screw up his life in a mere moment– or maybe he saw something else inside me. Anger? No, he'd only throw that back in my face.

"You guys should take off your bracelets," he says quietly.

"I knew there was something about these!" Finn exclaims, unclasping his from his wrist.

"Why?" I ask as I do the same.

The bathroom door swings open. After three girls pour out, Hadds grips the knob and looks at me. "Take. Off. Your. Bracelets. That's your hint." He locks the door behind him.

•

My piece-of-shit level may be increasing with every passing day, but Adelis's meter must be broken.

"Guys! Guuuuys! Where's your frickin' bracelets?" Adelis giggles as we approach the couch where he's stationed.

"Why does it matter if we're wearing the bracelets?" I inquire, consciously trying to sharpen every syllable despite the way my mouth wants to slur words into a giant heap.

"How else is everyone gonna know where to buy their Nine from?" He's still giggling. Finn and I exchange exasperated looks. We don't need telepathy to understand what we're both thinking: _this bitch_.

"Who _are_ they buying their Nine from?"

Adelis feigns shock. "Oh, I didn't tell you?"

"Must've left that part out, _dude_." Finn's mien contrasts his congenial tone.

"Well, the cool little bracelets I gave you were so people would know they could ask you where to buy it, okay? And they'd be like, 'where can I go to buy some of God's semen in a pill?' and you'd say you got your God-semen-pills from me, and bam, one more sale for Team Adelis, am I right? High fives all around!"

He holds up his hand. I exhale audibly so everyone in the surrounding area can feel my frustration. Surprisingly, Finn slaps Adelis's hand. "Well, if we're really a part of your 'team'..." Finn suddenly grips Adelis's hand, hard. He crouches low so his face is level with Adelis's, then speaks words dripping with underlying contempt. "I want in."

Adelis wipes a stray piece of blonde hair out of his eyes and simpers. "That's what I like to hear, Finny."

I stare down in awe at Finn gripping Adelis's hand like he's about to break it off, and when Finn smiles, he's simultaneously the most idiotic and most attractive person on Earth.


	6. Someday

Living with a drug dealer is less exciting than I'd anticipated. Typically it means that Finn is out of the room more often and I get nervous whenever I see a campus police car drive in the general direction of Silverton. On the rare occasion that Finn is engrossed in his studies when he gets a request for Nine, I'll do a run for him.

The act of slinging pills sounds sketchier than it is. One time, I delivered a seventy-dollar order to a kid from my Sociology class. The next day, our professor placed the two of us in a group activity together, and he gave me a "'sup" nod. I now count him as the first in-class friend I've ever made, despite the fact that he's never acknowledged my existence since that moment. Baby steps, I guess.

When Finn officially became part of "Team Adelis," he suddenly started claiming that he'd already tried Nine. "Adelis wouldn't let me sell without being able to describe the stuff to the newbies," he explained to me. "It was definitely a whirlwind of a night. I probably took too much, but I don't regret a damn thing." I nod, feeling my throat tighten.

Hadds is swamped with work and Adelis is going to get smacked with some annoying juniors from the theatre department. Neither Finn nor I feel like hitting up the eighteen-and-up club on Main Street, so we're stuck in our dorm room with a dub of weed, half a handle of rum, two beers, and a seemingly limitless supply of Nine.

I check my mini-fridge for the fifteenth time and frown at the two Keystone Lights I filched from a frat party. "There's really _nothing_ we can do to get more beer?"

"Adelis already left for his shindig. Hadds told me he's not in the mood to do anything but work," Finn sighs. "Our friends with fakes are nothing but flakes."

I lean back and kick my legs up on my desk. Finn's playing with the cap on the rum bottle. "You wanna?" I ask.

Finn peers over. "I wanna. You wanna?"

"I w– hey, how do you even know what I was asking you?"

He chuckles and taps the lighter on his desk. "Pretty sure I've got you figured out."

Mutual discussion and split-second planning ends with two purple pills perched on a sticky note. The note is adorned with a crudely-doodled flowchart: The first image depicts Finn and I looking bored; the next shows us popping Nine; in the last picture we are dazed-but-happy with rainbows, flowers, and stars coloring the background. Finn drew all of this in red ink.

"So it's decided," he says as he proudly gazes at his artwork. "We let Nine guide us during this Friday night. Would you like to do the honors?"

As a lefty I'm prone to picking anything on my dominant side, but I choose to go with the right pill. He smiles at me before we wash down the capsules with Keystones. I feel like he knows something I don't.

This time is better. This time, the autumn sky doesn't want to eat me, unlike the dining hall ceiling. This time I don't feel alone.

When Finn was feeling kissed in our room, he told me we should go outside, and then he ran out the door. I followed, floated down three flights of stairs and out the back, and found him staring up at the big tree outside our building. He opened his mouth like he had something to say, but he didn't say it. He only looked at me and laughed and ran away again, faster than I can keep up with.

And now I'm running too. The rational part of me screams about how much I usually hate running, but right now, I want to. I need to show Finn I'm not shying away from the effects of Nine even though _God fucking knows_ my heart wants to explode.

I can't stand how beautiful he is, how beautiful he seems as he sprints past every conventionally-pretty plant and building and walkway that made me want to go to this school in the first fucking place– he sprints and laughs everything off like none of it ever meant shit, like he's showing everything that they could never live or breathe like he does, and I want to explode, I want to die, and I– _what if I have a heart attack and he watches me die_ – stop, it's just the running, it's just the running making me feel out of breath– it's just that– it's okay–

It's okay to be kissed _._

It's okay for me–

For him–

For _us–_

To be kissed _together_.

Finn stops in front of the Student Union. He pushes on the big, glass double-doors. They don't budge. Defeated, he plops down on the concrete and crosses his legs over one another like a patient Kindergartener.

"No sushi for me," Finn sings to himself as I approach.

Grateful for the change of pace, I sit and peer into the dark abyss that is the after-hours Student Union. "You want... you wanted sushi?" I'm still out of breath.

"Yeah! Like, I know the Union isn't open right now, but I thought it'd be a cool adventure." He smacks his palms against the glass door and leans in. "Imagine. You and me, the pitch-black night, a couple Nines in our system, and all the sushi ingredients we could ever want at our fingertips..."

"Yeah," I breathe. My exhalations fog up the door. Oh my God, no one's gonna realize we were talking about stealing food from the school, right? Can the cameras see this? Will someone saliva-test this glass?! Paranoid as all hell, I wipe my sleeve on the glass to erase any traces of my identity.

Finn, however, shares little to none of my anxiety. "Let's try the back way!" Optimism permeates his tone.

As we make our journey to the other side of the building, Finn takes a seat on the edge of a flower bed. His sunny, Nine-filled expression now looks like there's fish hooks pulling it to the ground.

"Back door," I prompt him. Then I realize he's looking at his phone. I glimpse the text he's reading. It's from Ava. Suddenly, fish hooks grab the corners of my mouth too.

I'm totally _not_ upset that Finn's taking a moment to text his long-term, long-distance girlfriend. There's _no_ reason for this sinking feeling in my chest. I _don't_ want to slap Finn's phone out of his hand and press my body against his to remind him that he doesn't think too highly of this girl considering the fact that he–

" _Fuck_!" Finn throws his phone on the flower bed. I open my mouth but he speaks first, his voice filtering through a cheesy grin: "Where were we?"

Mechanically, he stands and starts walking. I start to follow, but my conscience seizes me. I grab his phone from the ground just as it flickers on, signaling the arrival of a new text.

* * *

**Ava :) :**

Whatever... I'll see you tomorrow.

**Received at 11:58 PM**

* * *

My brain claws at the part of my high that should allow me to shrug off emotions with ease, but I still end up feeling pretty shitty.

When I catch up with Finn, he hasn't reached the back door of the building yet. He's just hovering over a bench. I hand him his phone and he grimaces.

"By the way," he says, his tone higher-pitched than normal. "Ava's coming over tomorrow. Probably for the last time."

"The last time," I repeat.

"You heard me." He pockets his phone without looking at the text message. "Don't worry too much, I'll get through it... as soon as you close your eyes and put out your hand." He's smiling again.

I do as I'm told and receive a cold, rectangular piece of plastic in my outstretched palm. When I open my eyes, I can't believe what I'm seeing. "Is this..."

"Who does it look like?" Finn is eager, waiting, wanting.

I tilt the over-twenty-one ID toward the street light so I can get a better look at the picture. "You," I tell him.

"No way! That's too perfect!" He brings his hands to his head as he shouts words of gratitude to an unnamed being in the heavens. "I thought... see, like..." He points at the guy in the photo. "I thought it looked like _you_!"

"Oh my God," I breathe.

"Do you know what this means?" I'm too stunned to speak. I don't know if it's the element of surprise or the excitement Finn is breathing into me, but adrenalin is harmonizing with Nine in my veins and I feel weightless. "Do you know what this means?" Finn repeats.

He climbs onto the bench and begins to yell. No words come out of his mouth, just pure, drugged-up, gorgeous elation. I stand below him and try to match his tone without covering him up. We pierce the night air together with our voices, and for this second of time, I feel life in my humming throat and shaking hands. I feel all of the life I need to live, the life I never thought I had in me.

But he's coming down now. He's off the bench and he's small and quiet, and even though he's staring at the ID– the most incredible conquest of his young life– he's not happy.

"Tomorrow, we'll go to the bar together."

"Together? How?"

"I'll get stamped when I get in, okay? Then I'll leave, and– and I'll give you the ID. It'll work, trust me, and we can do it together, we have to, we, we–" He's gasping for air. "She'll be gone by the time happy hour rolls around, I swear."

"Gone?"

"Gone," he confirms.

"Gone where?"

"Gone. She's gonna be gone, Liam." He's looking far away from me, somewhere past my head, somewhere in the sky. "It'll be just me and you. Okay? Just you and me." He's staring up at the stars, wide-eyed and pale, and I realize that the aching emotion in his eyes is meant for me. "I'm going to be... we're going to be fine."

I think he remembers kissing me.

I just don't know if he wants to.


	7. At Ease

I wake up to the sound of Finn's phone ringing loudly on his dresser. Finn, of course, remains passed out. Heavy eyelids convince me to ignore the sound until it rings ten more times and I start to wonder whether or not my roommate is still breathing.

I roll out of bed. When I nearly step on a mostly-empty bag of honey barbecue pretzels, I realize I don't remember much about what happened before I crawled into bed.

"Finn," I say, gently tapping his shoulder. He doesn't stir. "Dude. Your phone's going off." I give him a push and he responds with a low-pitched gurgling noise. "Seriously, man. Do you want me to put it on silent or–"

There's a knock at the door. I freeze up, unsure of how to approach the situation considering I'm half-asleep and Finn is typically the one who deals with human interaction. A few tense seconds pass before the stranger graces us with a second, more unforgiving knock.

" _Fuck_." Finn bolts upright and throws all his blankets off the bed. He rushes to the door and mutters a few words of greeting to his girlfriend.

Ava's not looking as clean and put-together as she usually does. Her expression is weighed down with fatigue and she won't look Finn in the eyes.

Wait a second. Didn't Finn mention something about Ava last night? Wasn't it bad but good at the same time? Are they gonna– oh geeze.

"I'll be in the lounge," I mumble, mostly to myself.

•

When working on homework proves fruitless, Hadds visits me. "Does Nine make you feel weird the next day?" I ask.

He tilts his head. "Weird? Like how?" He brought over some study material, but we've only been gossiping about Finn and Ava for the past half an hour.

"Empty, I guess. A little drained." I bring my hands to my left side, where a dull pain has been growing. "Achey."

Hadds chuckles. "It's the comedown. Sometimes I feel it, too. I'll get so groggy, I don't get out of bed until dinnertime."

I neglect to mention that I do that on a regular day, but hey, different strokes. "I wish I had that option right now," I grumble.

"You should be glad you don't have that option, considering he's off breaking up with his ball-and-chain right now." Hadds's eyes reflect a combination of snark and unease that always colors his face on the rare occasion that we approach this topic. "Man, it should be the best day ever..."

"Yeah, I'll probably be happy later on." I don't know if I mean that. I pity Finn, and I guess I pity Ava too. They've been dating for a long time. I think they figured they'd found their be-all-end-all. They thought they were safe together. Maybe they were being too optimistic.

Pain shoots through my side and I stifle a moan. _Jesus_ , that hurt. "What about stabbing cramps? Are those part of the 'comedown?'"

Hadds shakes his head. "Never have been for me. Maybe you're just sensitive to the– hey, there's Finn!" I glance up at the door to the lounge and catch a glimpse of the back of his head as he hurries past. "If you wanna grab a pain pill from your room, now would be the time."

Rising to my feet sets off another wave of agony. I hurry back to the room where, to my horror, Ava's grabbing clothes out of Finn's dresser. She looks up at me with red, puffy eyes. I give her an awkward, _sorry about your life_ nod.

I rifle through my drawers for ibuprofen but I can't fucking remember where I put it– oh my _God_ , this pain is getting worse, now is not the time for me to forget–

" _Uugh_." The whimper is a reflex to the latest throb in my side. Ava whips around to look at me, shrugging off some misery and replacing it with concern.

"Are you alright?" she inquires in a low voice.

Paralyzed, I slowly lower myself onto the ground. "Probably not," I gurgle. "My side–" Ow. Ow. OW. "I– It hurts. It hurts so... so bad."

Ava crouches beside me. She puts her hand on my forehead, then recoils like she touched a hot stove. Through my pain-induced fog, I notice a moment of hesitation hangs in the air before she makes up her mind. "Come on. I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"No, no, don't do–" _Oof_. "Don't do that... don't..."

"You need medical attention. I'll drive you so you don't have to pay for an ambulance, okay? Here, let me help you get to my car–"

"But..." I wheeze, staring at her outstretched hand. "You guys, you and Finn, you gotta talk–"

In a flash, her eyes turn into a pair of cocked guns directed straight at me. "Take my hand," she growls.

I grab hold and follow her lead.

•

Things I learned while stuck in the ER with a kidney stone and my roommate's almost-ex-girlfriend: One, my life is a joke. Two, I'm going to drink ten gallons of water every day to prevent this from happening again, ever. Three, morphine is an intravenously injected orgasm.

Four, I now realize that I should have spent more time around Ava previous to this catastrophe. We're going on five hours of alone time and the novelty is wearing off. After she helped me call my parents (AKA, she held the phone up to my ear while I sniveled) Finn gave her a ring to check up on me. I was then subjected to the most tense fight ever conducted entirely in whispers.

The agony eventually comes to an end when the doctor gives me a few meds and sends us on our way. I'm still nauseous, but on the positive side, I don't feel like the Julius Caesar to a kidney stone's Brutus.

As we climb into the car, Ava offers to buy me groceries so I don't have to leave my room for food while I recover. I decline, but I'm touched by the gesture. Despite the non-existence of solid interaction during our time in the ER, there's a new connection between Ava and I. Suddenly I'm hurting more for her than for Finn.

I thank her repeatedly, but she shrugs it off. "No need to thank me! You were kind of dying on the floor, after all. I couldn't have left you there."

"Yeah, but you..." I rephrase the sentiment a thousand times in my head before saying it. "You had other things to focus on."

Ava's smile is sad and puckered. "If it makes you feel any better, it was a welcome distraction."

"Are you two alright?"

"Not really. Well, not at all, actually." She chuckles to herself. "I'm sorry that you're caught in the middle of all of this."

"Don't apologize. I understand." Says the boy who's never been in a relationship that's lasted more than four months. "Are you doing okay?"

"Well, I'm doing better than you when you were writhing in pain and desperate for morphine, so it's a start," she jokes. I can hear the lie in her tone, though. She'd rather be the one squirming on the hospital bed than dealing with her own life.

In the hush that follows, I study her face. Though she's usually grounded in the moment, right now she's floating away. She's living in a constant state of waiting for something that will close a door in her mind and grab her ankles before she flies off and can't find the ground again. I'm looking at her inner turmoil as it's being turned inside out. My heart aches.

She helped me. She was there for me when she didn't need to be. She could have asked someone else to help me, or just called 911, or anything else. But she didn't. She cared for the well-being of the person she hardly knows. She cared about me. I don't know if Finn or Hadds would have done the same thing. I don't think they would have.

My conscience throbs, signaling it's time to do something I'm going to regret.

"I don't know if you want to hear anything about Finn right now, but I think there's something you should know." My throat tightens with every word that thrusts me deeper into this can of worms.

She looks worried. "Okay."

And then I tell her. I say it as fast and as simply as I can, stressing the fact that he initiated the kiss but I let it happen. I assure her I'd never heard him talk about boys before, and I reassure her that the only girl he ever talked about was her. I ramble, I stutter, I'm running my words despite the terrifying burn of impulsive decision.

"We've never talked about it. Finn and I, I mean. I think he forgot, or he doesn't want to remember it, and I'm– God, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I should have told you."

We approach a red light. Ava is silent. I wonder if she's going to tell me to walk back the rest of the way.

"Wow." She closes her eyes. "God damn." I start to push out one more "sorry" but she cuts me off. "Thank you."

I'm taken aback. "For what?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to explain it. It's like... like this big wave of relief. I'm relieved that he kissed you. Is that weird?" The weight on her expression is crumbling. "I don't know what it is, I just..." She looks over at me. Her eyes are glassy, but it doesn't seem like she's going to cry. "Thank you, Liam."

The light turns green and we're quiet again. My shallow breaths deepen. I sit back in my seat. I'm puzzled yet at ease, and I think she feels the same.


	8. Freedom Friday

"It was a mutual breakup," Finn says.

"No big deal," he reassures.

"Wanna get high?" he asks. Replace high with _drunk_ or _kissed_ , rinse, repeat, and watch his consciousness get sucked down the drain.

He returned to Silverton after Thanksgiving break with a quarter of weed, two bottles of vodka, a handle of Kraken rum and Molly zipped up in a tiny pouch adorned with Playboy Bunny logos. Now, I don't know the last time he's breathed without the assistance of intoxicants.

Every day he wakes up and tries to get me to share a bowl with him, which turns into two or three, with a pre-class shot thrown in there "'cause class sucks, right?" Then it's the evening dose of Nine, and a few drinks before bedtime, then a couple hits to top it off– then he wakes up in the middle of the night and goes on his phone for hours. There have been times when I've woken up for my eight AM class and he's still awake, face illuminated by the light of his screen, claiming he couldn't sleep around five in the morning.

I'd be more worried if we weren't freshmen in college, or if I didn't partake in his ventures as much as I do, or if anyone else was worried, too– but considering he's never talked to any of us about his breakup in detail, I think it's just how he's grieving. I need to let him go through the motions.

Thus far he's been content to get fucked up on campus, but tonight's the last Friday before finals, and he's raring to go out.

"We gotta do the bar tonight. We gotta," he tells me as soon as he gets back from class. "I feel it. I'll go in first, get the stamp, then I'll come out and give you the ID. It's gonna work."

"Yeah, and if it doesn't work, you can always strand me out in cold while you drown in pitchers of Bud."

"Har, har." He sticks his tongue out. "It'll work, it's a college town, no bouncer's gonna be that harsh. I hear River's Bend doesn't give a shit."

"I don't know."

"Pleeeease? It's our last Friday of freedom! It's... it's 'Freedom Friday!' That's what they'll call it in the history books!" He looks as excited as one could possibly seem despite a red-tinted stare, baggy eyes, and fatigue emanating from every pore.

I sigh. "Rally the troops. I'll wear two pairs of jeans just in case."

Finn does a victory lap around the room. Within the next two minutes, he's pumping pregame-worthy music from his speakers and waiting for me to finish an assignment so we can take shots.

•

"Comb your hair back. That'll make you look more like..." Adelis squints at the ID I'm holding. "'Stefan Evans.'"

"Yeah. Maybe hunch over a little too. Also, can you gain ten pounds of muscle in the next twenty minutes?" Hadds is just as skeptical about this whole charade as I am.

"Maybe we should stuff balloons in my shirt," I offer.

Finn doesn't appreciate our doubt. "You guys are such downers. Have a little faith– have another drink! Rum and coke?"

"Finn, I'm not even done with this one," I say, indicating the half-empty drink beside me.

"Well, I'll refresh you." He pours straight rum into the cup. I'm already gagging.

When he runs to the bathroom, Adelis leans into me. "So he's the same as ever, then? And I mean that in a really, really cynical way."

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care."

"Well, I care when he takes significant bites out of my Nine supply." Classic Adelis, always putting the profit first. "Besides, isn't he making you run pills to customers because he's been too fucked up to see straight? That's super shitty."

My grip on the cup tightens. "No, it's really fine. I don't care. It's fine."

"He's trying to cope. We've all done it," Hadds pipes up.

Adelis rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that's fine and dandy, but he's being an asshole in the process." He turns to me, but I don't reciprocate his intense gaze. "You wanna start selling for me instead, Liam? At least I can trust you won't steal the client's stuff when you make a run."

Hadds nods like he thinks Adelis has a point. I consider not talking to them for the rest of the night.

•

Finn's already end-of-the-night rambunctious when we get to River's Bend. I watch him from the corner as he slides past the bouncer and receives a stamp on the back of his hand. Admittedly, due to his state of mind, I was worried he wouldn't make it inside.

A few minutes later he skips out of the bar and grabs my wrists. "Oh, Liam, it's glorious in there! Sweaty, sticky, and glorious! And they're playing that one rap song everyone knows but I don't, the one that's like, 'hey, fuck you,' uhmm, how does it go again? You know it, right?"

"I'll see if I do." He hands me the ID, then gives me a light nudge toward the door and a wink. I can only imagine the way the world is spinning for him right now. He looks a little less tired, at least.

The Gods of Underage Drinking– the only deity that I pray to on a regular basis– smile down upon Finn's crackpot plan, and the bouncer gives me the stamp of approval after asking only for my date of birth. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders, as well as a new degree of badassery being bestowed upon me. Suddenly I want everyone to see me, recognize me, and know that I'm cool enough to be in a bar.

Adelis and Hadds give me their discreet congrats with a free shot. And then another one. And then I realize I forgot to bring cash, so Finn ends up paying for the rest of my drinks.

We dance on the booths and share vodka sours and pitchers and spill alcohol all over our clothes, but it's amazing, it's freeing. I finally think I've shrugged off that kid who won the D.A.R.E. essay contest; if he saw me dancing to shitty, ninety's boy band classics in a dive bar at age eighteen, he would've screamed for my mom and gotten me grounded until I was legally old enough to drink the beer in my hand.

"We're dry!" Hadds exclaims after our latest pitcher runs out. "And I'm out of money!"

"Me too!" Adelis cries.

"I never even had money to begin with!" I chime in. We let out a collective, anguished scream that lingers until it becomes laughter. Oh my God, the way Hadds is looking at Adelis while he laughs– could he _be_ any more obvious? He's so much more sappy when he's drunk, it's really funny–

Wait, where's Finn?

I hop off the booth and assure my beer-less brothers that I'll find Finn and get him to pay for the next round. They salute me.

Weaving through bar-goers while considerably drunk is like a fucking video game. Don't walk to close to him, he's dancing and might spill his beer on you by accident. Don't walk there, there's a mysterious puddle on the floor. Don't walk between those two, looks like they're totally gonna hook up tonight.

Hold on.

I stop, turn on my heel and take a better look at the guy and girl I just passed. His hands are holding her sides, she's tipping her head up slightly to meet his eyes, they're dancing with no space between their hips– it's all normal, except that this girl isn't with some random guy, she's in close quarters with _Finn_.

He sees me staring and nods at me, but doesn't break away from this girl– this bottle-blonde, undercut, piercings-coming-out-of-her-piercings girl who probably thinks Finn is boring and plain and only good as the flavor of the night. I want to scream.

Instead, I wave Finn over to me. He leans close to her ear– oh, God– and she smiles and nods. _Then_ he comes toward me.

"Sorry I broke away, I got sidetracked." He draws out each word.

"I wanted to know if you'll get us a pitcher," I state. I can't control my robotic inflection. "Adelis and Hadds don't have any more–"

I stop speaking when he slips a twenty into my hand. "Drinks on me!" He's all smiles, all _sickening_ smiles. My internal envy is calling Finn nasty names and telling me not to be glad that he's happy. Envy says Finn's only happy because he's drunk out of his mind.

But when he lowers his voice and asks if he can "have the room tonight," envy dissipates and crumbles along with all the elation I've built up over the course of the night. Heat drains from my body and I can barely see the features on Finn's face, his _fucking smiling_ face. I open my mouth to answer–

But Finn runs away.

I stare blankly at the spot where Finn was before tuning into the rest of the building. A few other people are running, too. They're all sprinting to the back of the bar. I narrow my eyes and try to separate the spinning of the room from the rush of human bodies, but suddenly Hadds grabs my arm and whispers " _what are you doing_? _There's about to be a police raid!_ " and he pulls me into the stream of people.

We rush down the back stairs as yells escalate above– maybe directed at us, I can't tell– and spill out into the back parking lot. We keep running, down the streets, through backyards, across town. I can't find Finn, I just see Hadds, and I hate it. I need to know if Finn meant what I think he meant, I can't stand not being able to breathe–

I pause to catch my breath at a huge tree at the edge of campus. Hadds runs ahead, then doubles back to where I'm standing.

"I... I couldn't... keep... going..." I wheeze.

"It's okay. I don't actually know why we ran all that way. Everyone's got drunk paranoia, maybe– woah, where did all those people go?" He surveys the area and concludes that we're the only two left from the cloud of escapees. "Did they all stop a while back...? Damn," he sighs. "I think I'm the only drunk paranoid one here."

We walk toward the dorm buildings. Hadds keeps talking about the stupidity of the police raiding bars for minors. I nod and let the knot in my stomach tighten with anxiety. When we reach the fork in the road between Silverton and Burns, I ask if I can sleep in Hadds's room.

His eyes widen. "Finn's actually gonna sleep with that girl?"

"No, he never said– how did you know about that girl?"

"I saw them flirting. Did he say he was going to?"

"He said he needed the room tonight," I clarified. "That's all."

"Damn, dude! Damn. That's one way to get over an ex."

"Yeah, okay, great," I mumble. "Let's stop talking about it."

"Yeah, sure, it's just– _damn_. Didn't think he had it in him." There's a pause before he continues. "You should've told her."

"Told her?"

"Told her she's got no chance, 'cause you're his soulmate." He smirks. I want to rip his throat out, but I also feel like crying.

Hadds and Adelis's floor has no rug. It's cold and hard. I can't sleep.

In my mind Finn is naked and panting, suspended above a girl with no face or name. The sheets are twisted and falling off the bed. The air is thick.

I'd do anything not to think about this shitty scene. I don't want to put myself there. So why can't I keep the images from intruding into my conscious thoughts?

For a minute I convince myself that I don't feel anything for him. It's beautiful how a mind can trick itself into thinking anything; it's deadly and addicting and beautiful. I want to believe this fantasy I've created because I now realize I'm reaching out for something intangible. I can't watch Finn run off with a stranger from the bar and think, "my turn is next." I need to stop curling my hands around nothing and calling it something.

I lie awake for hours– thinking, wishing, and waiting for the sun to come up. When my mind grows weary, I fall into a restless slumber.


	9. Welcome to the Club

I sleep for about an hour. When I wake up, the sun's just peeking over the horizon and Adelis and Hadds are still passed out. I assume Finn's fast asleep, drooling away in that girl's hair.

I'm groggy as hell, emotionally drained, and starving. The stinging in my eyes insinuates I'm about to cry, but an empty chest tells me I'm too exhausted to make the attempt. I decide to go to the lounge and see if I can shake loose some emotion.

I'm down the hall and passing the bathroom when I hear Hadds open his door and hiss. He shuffles toward me in a pair of fuzzy socks. "You woke me up," he whispers. "Where the hell are you going?"

"The lounge. Your floor sucks."

"Seriously? People fuck on those couches on, like, a weekly basis."

"I don't care."

"Yeah, but think of all the built-up–" He pauses and squints. "You okay? Are you hungover or something?"

I mash my palms into my eyes and sigh. "I am fine, Hadds, I just want to sleep in the lounge."

He walks me there and sits beside me on the couch. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on. I'm tired."

"You're fucking lying."

"Come on, Hadds." I pull my knees to my chest and lean my head back. He scoots closer. Tears are building out of pure frustration.

"Can I just take a guess?" he pleads.

I sigh. "There's nothing to guess."

"You're thinking about last night, aren't you?" Fuck. No. I'm not about to get into this right now. I remain silent, but Hadds pushes on. "You feel weird about Finn fucking that girl."

Blood rushes to my cheeks. Vision's blurring. Shit, shit, shit. "Hadds–"

"Oh my God." He's suppressing a smirk, I can see it. I hate him. I _hate_ him. "Don't tell me–"

"Shut up–"

"Don't tell me you caught feelings from one little kiss!"

I let out a groan. It compliments a couple fat tears that escape without my consent. Hadds's eyes widen.

"Holy shit, dude, I'm sorry." His genuine tone is a surprise. "Didn't mean to stir anything up."

"It's been stirred for a while."

"Still. My bad."

We're both quiet. I wonder if I still have time to deny the accusations. Hadds seems mournful.

He breaks the hush. "Well, welcome to the club," he quips as he pats my leg.

The trite physical contact irks me. He doesn't get what I'm going through, he can't– I'm linked to Finn, we're connected; but if I could shake off these extraneous feelings, God, I would. Hadds has a weird, puppy-crush despite repeatedly acknowledging Adelis's shortcomings and shittiness. He's chasing a fantasy, and I'm trying to ignore the fact that my fantasy exists.

"It's not a fucking club," I snarl. Hadds looks taken aback. "We're different. I care way too much about Finn, and last night I realized I can't let myself feel that way anymore. I... I had to give him permission to fuck someone else in _our_ room. I had to let all my stupid emotions go." My hands are shaking. I can't look at Hadds. "You don't understand, you just don't. We're not in a club. It's not something that's fun for me, Hadds, I'm fucking drowning. You don't get it, okay? I'm drowning."

He pauses before answering. "You... you seriously think I don't know what it's like?" His voice, dripping with ferocity, is considerably louder than mine. "You ever hear Adelis talk around other guys? He flirts with them incessantly. Fitz, Sef, every male he's ever sold Nine to, every guy he gets a split second to talk to– even Finn, even _you_ , but you probably don't notice..." I really haven't. He clenches his fists. "But not me. Never-fucking-me. He talks to me like a sibling, like someone he'd never touch with a ten foot pole. Maybe 'cause we're roommates, maybe 'cause I'm just, y'know, not fucking good enough. Never fucking good enough." He chuckles bitterly.

"I mean, that could mean he likes you–"

"You think I hadn't thought about that?" he snaps. "You think– oh my God– you think I hadn't considered that wonderful, tiny improbability? Why the hell do you think I'm still holding on to him? Why do you think I still look at him with any shred of hope? It's because I'm so fucked in the head, I'm willing to believe he wouldn't flirt with me because he actually _likes_ me, goddammit! That could be how he's getting my attention, right? Must be! Madame Julisa wouldn't lie about us! That must fucking be it!" With the tension having reached its climax, Hadds rises to his feet. "Look, I'm sorry about Finn having sex with that girl. That's a shitty thing to have to go through. But don't assume you have it the worst. Just do what I do and deal with it." He turns toward the door.

"Hadds, I'm–"

"Save it. I'm feeling tired, just like you." He waves his hand dismissively. "Door's open if you get sick of the semen-encrusted couches." He leaves the lounge. I sit and stare at my fingernails for about an hour before a janitor walks in and I decide that the cold floor might not be so bad after all.

I sit awake, propped against Hadds's dresser until Adelis wakes up. He invites me to get breakfast at the dining hall with him and Fitz. While he waits in line for a breakfast sandwich, I avoid the awkwardness of sitting alone with Fitz by spending fifteen minutes meticulously buttering a bagel.

Adelis ignores me throughout breakfast. He's only interested in hearing Fitz's gossip about people I've never heard of and how smashed they were when they hooked up with other people I didn't know existed. Still reeling from my conversation with Hadds, I scrutinize Adelis's body language, but I can't seem to pick up any manifest signs of flirtatious behavior.

Eventually Finn texts me.

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

HEY! where is you?!

_**Received at 10:37 AM** _

* * *

I'm about to turn a blind eye to Finn's question when Adelis peers over at my phone.

"Oh my God, tell Finn to get his ass over here, now. I need to hear about what happened with him and that girl last night." The mischievous glint in his eyes is overwhelming.

So Finn meets us at the dining hall, grinning, gleaming, radiating "I-got-laid-last-night" vibes with violent intensity. I want to vomit on his shoes, but at the same time, I feel too empty to express bitterness.

"You had sex with her, right? Tell me you guys had crazy sex. I mean, like, she totally looked like a freak." Adelis acts like Finn's little puppy, gobbling up the scraps at his feet.

Finn shrugs. "Whatever you wanna think."

Adelis squeals. "So you _did_!"

"Maybe."

He squeals again. My ears ring. Finn continues to talk about this girl and I try to tune it out, but I can't. I'm hanging on every word, scrutinizing every detail, pretending she's not any better for Finn than I am.

Her name is Sarita. She's a sophomore, a poli-sci major, and she taught Finn how to say _esponjera_ and _sacapuntas_ with a passable Spanish accent. She's already got me beat by a long shot.

"We're hanging out again today, actually."

Adelis looks enthralled. I want to sink beneath the table. "Oh my God, is this a thing now? A fuck-buddy thing?"

Finn rolls his eyes, bites his lip and doesn't say anything. I brace for more high-pitched sounds from Adelis.

I spend the remainder of breakfast attempting to remember last night's epiphany: I can't want Finn, it's not healthy for me. He doesn't like me the same way I like him. If I don't give up on him, I'm only subjecting myself to torture. This was all easier when I didn't have a name to put to the face of my dread: Sarita. _Sarita_. Fuck. Why isn't _my_ name Sarita?

"Dude, I gotta tell you something," Finn says in a strained voice as soon as Adelis and Fitz leave.

I eye their now-empty seats. "What?"

"I'm an idiot." He sinks down in his seat. "Don't hate me."

"Never." Despite everything, still true.

"Okay. Holy Jesus. I didn't want Adelis to know 'cause– I don't know, probably 'cause I'm an idiot– I didn't have sex with her. Sarita." He looks embarrassed, as though he's ashamed of telling me exactly what I want to hear.

There's a rush of excitement pulsing through my veins like a dormant hit of Nine is coming out to play. "So you wanted the room last night to... what, play checkers?"

He groans and thrusts his forehead into his palms. "Oh my God, that's the worst part, man. I asked her to come back with me, right? At the moment, it was like yeah, this makes sense, but it was just drunk me talking. It was... it was 'Drinn!' Drunk-Finn! Or maybe 'Funk?' Oh, God, I have no idea. I'm just so stupid, I can't believe I–"

"Dude!" He's rambling with more passion and urgency than usual. It's simultaneously cute and obnoxious as hell. "Why are you saying you're stupid?"

Finn stops, stares into my eyes, and then places his hands on my shoulders. "I pulled a Holden Caulfield, man." I'm about laugh until I realize how serious he is. "I brought her back to the room, promises of sex lingering in the air, and then... I talked about my problems. For hours. _Hours_." He sounds mortified.

Now I can't hold back the giggles. Finn glares. "Sorry," I say between snickers. "I feel like this whole thing could've been more of a disaster." For instance, he could have slept with her.

"You weren't there, dude. We made out, she was about to– about to– but I didn't let her! She was expecting... I don't know, three to five orgasms of incredible quality! I could've provided them, of _course_ , but apparently I'm still not fully over Ava, and I didn't figure it out until Sarita was about to unzip my _fuckin_ ' pants–"

"Are you okay?" I interject.

"Huh?" His pupils are huge and he's out of breath. I think I answered my own question.

"Are you alri– oh, fuck it, are you sober?"

"Possibly not. Probably not. I'm not. Want some?" He starts digging in his pocket. I grab his wrist to keep him from revealing a handful of drugs in the middle of the dining hall. Instead of taking Nine at the table, we walk back to Silverton, I get kissed in the dorm room, and Finn takes a long nap. I spend the majority of my high listening to loud music, rolling a lighter in my palms and wishing Finn would wake up so I can look him in the eyes.

Finn wasn't lying to Adelis about hanging out with Sarita again. She has the same Composition professor as Finn, so she shows up at our dorm to study for finals wearing her sorority's letters on a hoodie. She's gorgeous– a step up from Ava in my opinion– and I suddenly wonder if Finn told me the truth about last night.

I've barely introduced myself before she asks in a sexily raspy voice, "Yo, you met his ex, right? Would you call her manipulative?"

"Manipulative?" I'm dumbfounded by her straightforwardness. Finn's giggling, though. "Uhm, I don't know. I guess she was pushy at times–"

"Motherfucker, I told you! You're in denial!" She smirks and gives Finn a light bump with her shoulder.

"Maybe in the tiniest way," Finn admits.

"'Maybe?!' Based on what you told me last night, I–" Sarita throws her hands up. "Whatever. Study first, therapy later." She's definitely no Ava. I'm relieved.

She invites Finn and I to her sorority's party, promising excellent jungle juice and shots aplenty.

Finn glances at me. "I'm in. Well, as long as this guy wants to go too."

There's a difference in the way he looks at me compared to Sarita. His eyes display more reverence toward me than the girl he thought about fucking. She's beautiful and smart and cool and I'm just Liam, but I'm starting to think that's enough. I'm scraping happiness out from the ruins of the pipe dream I destroyed last night. I'm getting ready to fall harder.

I grin. "I'm down to party."


	10. Calm Before the Storm

Finn doesn't get as fucked up as he did last night. He doesn't talk to the sorority girls and he makes his interactions with Sarita short and sweet. He's more composed than I've seen him in a while, while simultaneously acting less Finn-ish. I should be worried, I think, but there's no time to mull it over; when Finn ducks into the bathroom, Sarita ropes me into a game of flip cup.

"We need someone to even out the sides! You're perfect!" she exclaims in spite of our paper-thin acquaintanceship.

Nonetheless, I'm flattered, and I take my place at the end of the table. I glance up at the guy across from me and realize I know him. This recognition is mirrored on his face, and his wide, brown eyes mold to compliment a congenial smile. "Hey, you're in my Soc class."

"Hey, so are you."

"You also got me a shitton of Nine that one time."

"Ha, right." I don't even know how to respond. Am I not supposed to acknowledge that I'm a part-time drug slinger? Isn't that something you keep on the DL, a la "I know a guy?" Or are the basements of sorority houses a designated area of social anarchy?

"Thanks, by the way. That stuff is tight."

"No problem. Anytime." I feel like I'm being thanked for running a trivial errand.

"By the way, did you get the email from Professor Jun?" the guy– fuck, I cannot remember his name for the life of me– asks.

"About the final exam thing?"

"Yeah, that one, you know how she said that–"

"GO!" someone from the other side of the table screams at my unnamed friend. He reacts like his teammate just flipped his light switch to "on." Before I can even take a sip from my beer, he's landed his solo cup on the table and successfully dragged my team to the slaughter.

The guy makes no comment about my embarrassing defeat as we stand in line for the keg. Instead, he's still deeply interested in the fact that our professor gave us the choice to do a group project instead of taking a final exam.

"I was thinking about taking that option," I tell him, eyes furtively scanning the room for Finn. "I just don't know who would be in my group."

"You're friends with Adelis LaPelle, right?"

I didn't realize the lives of drug dealers were so... I don't know... publicized. "Yeah, why?"

"Jun said we could group up with people in the other section of the course. Adelis dropped off to me the other day– he's in the other section– and he mentioned wanting to start a group. It could be me, you, and him, if that's cool."

He looks weirdly excited for something as horrendous as a group project. "Yeah, that would be solid."

"Great. I can email Jun tomorrow and let her know we're gonna work together. What's your last name?"

"Forecoaster." Better ask now before things get awkward. "And, uhm, I'm _really_ sorry, I'm terrible with names... what's your, uh, first name?"

He smiles. "I'm Marcello."

•

There's a wealth of strangeness that comes with working on a project with Adelis. First of all, he always seems to know whether or not I'm sober, even if all I do is walk into the library and set my books down on a table. Second, every time we think we've exhausted our resources, he gets up to look for books to aid our research– and he always comes back with something we can use. Then there's the way that he's considerably less chatty when Marcello is around.

He's not dumb by any sense, he just has a strange approach to being a team player. Quiet, fleety, yet invaluable. Not at all what I was expecting.

Marcello, though a sophomore, is a little slower than Adelis and I. There have been a few occasions where I've had to re-explain some core concepts while Adelis sits on the other side of the table, biting his lip and looking tentative. I don't mind playing teacher, but I do wonder where Marcello's mind has been hiding all semester.

The "Group Project Ordeal" (as I've come to call it) became a little more odd when I found out Marcello shares an apartment with Sarita. When Adelis and I went to Marcello's place to work, I caught sight of Sarita and another girl sitting in the kitchen. She ran up and hugged me while the other girl giggled. When Adelis and I walked into Marcello's room, I swear I heard her say something along the lines of, "yeah, I made out with his roommate," which made me a little less keen on the hug.

"I kind of think she was expecting me to fall in love with her or something," Finn explains when I tell him about the occurrence. "We don't talk much anymore." He pops open a Blue Moon with the side of a lighter and drinks to mellow out his high. He's been a little more responsible with intoxicants ever since his night with her. On the other hand, I've been doing worse.

Hadds and I don't talk about our mini-blowout in the lounge. In fact, we barely scrape the surface of our crushes at all; it seems like ever since Hadds found out about my thing for Finn, we're in a competition to see whose love life is more hopeless. Nonetheless, our friendship remains in tact, if not perched on the edge of a skyscraper.

Things are holding the line during the week before finals. Classes are over, studying is constant, and any free moment to grab a beer or smoke a bowl is a moment to treasure. The Group Project Ordeal, however, feels like it's coming to a head.

Marcello's the calm before the storm and I see it in the tips of his fingers, the smile he shoots at me, the punctuation on the end of sentences about him– like the way Adelis says with saccharine, psuedo-sincerity: "He's great, right?"

"He's..." What is he? "Sure."

Adelis claws at stray papers. He crams them all in one pocket of the same folder. "I have things to do too, like, for the rest of the night, it's like that– hey, text Marcello if you have any questions, okay? I mean, you know. He knows more than me and shit."

"Sure." Adelis winks even though he's suppressing a smirk. "Have a good night."

"You too, okay?"

I drown conscious thought in work. Marcello texts me a few minutes past eleven and I scribble one, two, three more words in the margin of some inconsequential rant about history.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Hey its Marcello... hows research going?_

**_Received at 11:03 PM  
_ **

* * *

11:03? Three minutes past two hours since he left the library? Was he counting? Did he not want to seem desperate? Why the _fuck_ am I asking myself these questions? Why can't I figure out how to answer this goddamn– Let me think, let me _think_ –

"It's going great, how are you?" No, "I think it's going as well as research CAN go! Haha!" Too many exclamation points, too many capitals, too much care put into it, can't seem like I _care_ , where the fuck would that leave me–

* * *

**You:**

_don't care about it at this point, i just wanna sleeeeep ha_

_**Sent at 11:08 PM** _

* * *

I pack up. Three packets of photocopies into the green binder, fives pages of notes into the yellow folder, one cell phone into my pocket, then out of my pocket, fingers gripping its sides like it's going to fall apart.

I check my messages as I pass Burns.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Haha i see! You should get some sleep, this projects not worth getting sick for :p_

_**Received at 11:12** **PM**  
_

* * *

**You:**

_you're right, i'm heading back to my dorm now. it's been a long night! haha_

**_Sent at 11:16 PM  
_ **

* * *

I stare up at Adelis and Hadds's window. The light's on.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Id say so! :/ You're definitely carrying the group. Thanks for that. :) Did you say you live in Burns?_

**_Received at 11:18 PM  
_ **

* * *

**You:**

_you're a big help too! & no, adelis lives in burns. i live in silverton  
_

**_Sent at 11:22 PM  
_ **

* * *

When I get to our room, Finn slides his chair out. "I thought you died in the library," he says. He's tapping his fingers against the side of a Corona that's sweating condensation. Its empty mate is tucked away, nestled in the corner between Finn's desk and the end of his bed.

"I thought I did too." I'm not looking straight at him, I'm staring at his freshly-opened beer. "And how goes the paper-writing?"

"Dismal." He turns to his laptop. "Swear to God, I've never been so lost for words in my life. There's only so many times I can reword a single goddamn sentence, and..." He snaps his gaze back to me. "Oh, shit, forgot to ask. How's working with Adelis?"

"Weird as hell," I explain, setting my things down on my desk. "It's almost as if he wants me to–"

_Bzzzt._

I glance down.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Oh I used to live in Burns, thats why i was wondering lmao. I hear Silverton is a total party dorm haha_

_**Received at 11:32 PM**   
_

* * *

**You:** _  
_

_kind of. i don't mind though, haha we have fun here :p_

_**Sent at 11:32 PM**   
_

* * *

Oh, God, I just realized Finn's been talking this whole time. "Sorry, what?"

He chuckles and waves an unopened beer at me. "I think you need this, man."

I haven't drank in twenty hours. I haven't gotten kissed in eighteen hours. I haven't smoked in nine hours. My mental catalogue of sobriety prompts the answer: "I think I do, too." I grab the beer. Finn follows my fingers from the butt of my lighter against the cap of my beer to the surface of my phone as it buzzes.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Sounds like fun... I should visit sometime. haha_

**_Received at 11:36 PM  
_ **

* * *

**You:**

_yeah you should, i mean i'm opening a beer right now sooo that's the kind of people we are_

**_Sent at 11:37 PM  
_ **

* * *

"You are so fucking into that text."

"It's Marcello," I explain. "Uh, he's my other group-mate besides Adelis." He nods, but he's still turned toward his laptop. "I don't know why, but Adelis keeps trying to–" Make me admit something about myself I don't want to. Cause me to scare you away. Rephrase, rephrase, rephrase. "–Get me to hang out with him." Finn looks over. I start scrambling to find the right words. "Like, Marcello and Adelis– Marcello's the other guy, like I said– I think Adelis is just trying to, I don't know."

_Bzzzt._

"Get us to be friends or something."

"Ohh." Finn takes a sip of his Corona. I take more of a gulp than a sip. It's border-lining chug territory when Finn turns to face me, body and all, and says, "Wait, Adelis is trying to help someone make friends? Really?"

"I guess. I don't know, it's weird."

Finn shrugs, takes one more drink, then returns to his work. I pick up my phone, scared he's looking at the screen.

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

_Ugh I could totally go for a beer... Speaking of which do you have a fake?_

**_Received at 11:42 PM  
_ **

* * *

**You:**

_haha I can usually get one! why?_

**_Sent at 11:43 PM  
_ **

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:  
**

_Theres a great band playing at Rivers Bend tomorrow. If you can, you should come! Ill be there jammin out lmao_

**_Received at 11:46 PM  
_ **

* * *

My eyes dart across the room.

"What are you doing tomorrow? Like, at night?"

He looks up at me. He knows what I'm thinking, but he exhales and says, "I told Arch and Mel– you know them, you've made runs to them before– I told those two I'd get kissed with them before our six o'clock class. Assuming I'm clear-headed by ten, I'll be right here..." He pats the side of his chair. "Trying to finish what I'll undoubtedly leave _un_ finished tonight."

"Could I borrow your fake? Maybe?" He doesn't look phased but I feel the need to explain anyway. "My group-mate, I mean Marcello, says there's a sick band at Bends tomorrow, thought I'd check it out and shit. I need a break from this... project thing."

Finn chuckles. "So does he, huh?"

"Marcello? Yeah."

"Yeah, that guy." He grabs the fake out of his desk drawer and leans over. I walk to him, grab it from his outstretched hand, and thank him ten times over. I grab my phone and start to reply, but Finn interrupts my train of thought. "Name?"

He's staring at me with folded hands pressed to his chin. "What– oh, Stefan Evans."

He's got that stone-cold-bouncer look. It's the same face that cops have, the permanent _remember-I-could-get-your-ass-arrested-at-any-moment_ expression. He's into this, and it's intimidating. "Birthday?"

I answer with as much confidence as possible. "July seventh, 1992."

"Address."

"Eleven Valentino... uh, Avenue?" Bouncer-Finn nods. "Seatown, New Jersey."

"Mother's maiden name?"

"Ha, ha, fuck you."

He snickers and waves his hand at me. "You never fucking know, man. Bars are getting savage these days."

I shake my head at him and take a few minutes to put together the mildly-hopeful words I can't quite grasp.

* * *

**You:**

_I'll try my best to get out there then :)_

**_Sent at 11:51 PM  
_ **

* * *

I'm excited, and I hate that I'm excited, and there's no way I can be productive when my thoughts swell like this.

I finish my beer, stuff some towels under the door, polish off a bowl with Finn, and fall asleep with the hope that my anxiety will fade with the night.


	11. Pale Yellow

Marcello is gentle. He laughs when I'm not funny, he listens although I'm not even sure what I'm saying, he pays the tab when he didn't have to: six beers and two shots of tequila split evenly between the two of us; one jack and coke for me; one vodka and lemonade for him; two more beers that I finished within the last thirty minutes because he offered to take me home after the band's set and I didn't refuse.

The walk to his place is a blur of my hand in his. He guides me to his apartment, up the stairs, past his giggling roommates– Sarita included– sharing a blunt in the kitchen.

"Who's the new guy? Gonna introduce me?" an unknown roommate asks.

Sarita's quick to answer. "Oh, I know him." Her tone reeks of haughtiness.

Marcello is forcing a smile now. "This is Liam." Sobriety seeps in with the first glimpse of my name from his mouth. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

They cackle with laughter as I let him pull me into his bedroom. Floor's clean. Bed is messy. Walls are meticulously decorated: A poster of Baz Luhrmann's _Romeo + Juliet_ , sticky-note reminders for assignments, a couple flyers for bands at local bars. It's less cluttered than I imagined, but then again, not everyone needs every inch of their personal space advertising the validity of their existence.

Still, something doesn't click. It's like the neat walls are battling against the way he brushes the hair out of my eyes and presses his forehead against mine. Numb, buzzing, high on attention, I act before thinking and bring my lips to his.

Marcello guides me– tenderly, while our lips are still bound together– down to his bed. He runs his hand through my hair and uses the other to push my hips toward his. We melt together, my senseless body rubbing against his warm skin. The inside of his mouth makes me think of pale yellows, the color on baby blankets and the squares people hang on their walls when they want to repaint the room.

Suddenly, I imagine Adelis's smug look in the library. I think about Hadds warning me that Adelis never does anything if there's nothing to gain. Then I think of Finn, about _that night_ , Finn's lips, Finn's warmth pressing against me, holding me captive with tentative emotions. I think about Finn as a person, Finn being here with me. Finn. _Finn_.

It's Finn's fault, that's why I'm doing this. It's the idea that I could be with him after I get over this milestone. It's the thought that I can open some door within myself; and, I guess, in a weird fucking way, accept who I want to be. Who I am, maybe. Besides, if Finn can find the confidence to go home with someone he barely knows, why can't I?

I tell Marcello I've never done this before. He says he thought so and guarantees that he doesn't care, but his look and his touch soften.

Marcello asks if I really want this as he shuffles through his nightstand for a condom and lube. He asks me again as I unbutton my jeans, then asks again when I undo his. Then he asks _what_ I want, and I just laugh.

"I don't know anything about this," I tell him. "Show me what I want." If there's a handbook on being a bottom, I'm pretty sure I'm following all the guidelines. He accepts my submission and begins his performance.

He kisses me whenever there's a moment to breathe. His moans are quiet and breathy. He's passionate. He makes me feel wanted and special and beautiful and horrible because there's a certain thought in the back of my mind, and it's the reason I'm clutching the bedsheets and burying sounds in the palm of my hand.

I want this, and I want to enjoy it– but my skin's vibrating too much. When I close my eyes, I feel the room spin. Needless to say, my penis is not at the forefront of my thoughts.

But I feel awful when I tell him I can't come. To my surprise, he immediately pulls out and tugs me into his body, molding me into a spooning position. I try to fit the curve of his body. "I'm sorry." Marcello says it four times. "Is this what you wanted?"

"I wanted it," I assure him.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes onto the back of my neck. Goosebumps form on my thighs.

We kiss for a while, then he falls asleep. I stay stiff. His breaths are deep and warm, but I'm not sure how soundly he's sleeping. I don't reach for my clothes or the blanket that's bunched up at the foot of the bed even though I'm cold and uncomfortable and unsure of how I'm going to get back to my dorm without waking Finn.

I accidentally stay the night. Marcello kisses my forehead before I leave in the morning.

•

"Okay, so you had an ID, but you didn't come to happy hour at Muddy's." Hadds frowns. He and I are packing up our things after an astronomy lecture about the Hubble Space Telescope. For an hour and fifteen minutes, I stared into the endless expanse of galaxies and thought about how Marcello's dick was longer than I expected.

"Yeah, I ended up at Bends," I tell him. "Heard happy hour was pretty sick, though."

"I mean, it's the same as always, which means it's fantastic as long as you're shitfaced. If you beg Finn for his ID next weekend, I'll buy you two– no, _three_ pitchers of Coors Light all to yourself."

Oh my God, I hate Coors Light. "Sounds good," I lie.

There's a distinct lack of conversation as we exit the lecture hall and head toward the student union; all of a sudden, Hadds clears his throat before speaking, like he doesn't want to fuck up his next sentence. "So how was Bends?"

I tighten my grip on my binder. "Pretty good. There was a solid band playing."

"Yeah?" Hadds replies, though I notice he's not looking at me. Typically, his style of conversation includes studying every inch of my mien. "Bends can be chill sometimes." Another pause in conversation colors our stroll until we're standing in line for sandwiches. "Who'd you go with?"

"A friend." He's still looking at me, waiting for me to say more. I give in on impulse. "Uh, Marcello Capelli."

"Marcello? I know him." Hadds turns away. "Marcello's pretty cool. That's– You had fun?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, that's cool." A smirk is showing through in his tone.

 


	12. Burnt Crimson

After dinner, we chase half-doses of Nine with vodka-and-cokes we snuck into the dining hall and put on a record in Hadds's room. Adelis is just about to leave for the night as we get there.

"Oh my God, Liam, you went out with Marcello, right? You went to Bends?" he asks eagerly.

"Yeah." The feeling of Marcello's _sorry_ s on the back of my neck creeps under my skin.

"Ugh, that's so awesome. Was it awesome?"

"It was a fun time. Hey, but how did you know–"

"He told me." Didn't realize they were so close. I feel a little more on edge. "Anyway, you'll have to fill me in sometime, Fitz and Sef are waiting for me. See you guys later." He stuffs his fake and a twenty dollar bill into his back pocket.

"Get nuts out there for me. We're about to get kissed." Hadds points at his lips.

"I'll compensate," Adelis quips. He sashays toward the door, but turns to look at me before exiting. "By the way, Liam. Marcello told me he had a great time with you, too." He winks. I stiffen.

We're halfway through a bag of microwavable popcorn and the first ten minutes of a Tarantino movie when Hadds pauses it. His eyelids are heavy and his face is flushed: Confirmation that this kiss is in full effect. Not saying mine's not, though; I've been considering taking off my shirt to fully experience the softness of Hadds's fleece blanket.

"So, Marcello. Is he, I don't know, a really cool guy or something?"

I hug the blanket around my shoulders as though its embrace can help me get through this barrage of weirdness. "He's actually super chill."

"Yeah, but like– he's– I don't know how to put it." He leans his head back on the wall and pauses, and in that silence, I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that this is the first time Hadds and I have sat on his bed in such close proximity.

After half a minute of no response, I decide Hadds has drifted off into a full-on mack session with Nine. I lean forward to press play on his laptop, but he speaks up. "Wait, no, I'm still alive! I'm just trying to piece together how to say this without giving anything away."

I want to raise my eyebrows but the upper half of my face won't comply. "Giving what away?"

"Fuck, can I just– yeah, yeah, I'll tell you. Just don't tell Adelis."

I _love_ when shit starts like this. "You know I won't."

"You won't. I know. Okay." He straightens his back. "Adelis was kind of trying to set you up with Marcello."

Could have called that. Surprised I didn't. "Alright," I say slowly. "But, uh, why?"

"Oh my God, it's not obvious?" He mashes his palms into his eyes. "Man, he wanted you to– fuck, I don't wanna say it." He starts giggling, but he's looking at me while he's giggling, and I see something there I've never seen before.

"Say it." He's still giggling. "Hadds, fucking say it! Hadds, I swear to fucking God..."

"He wanted to– oh man, this is too goddamn funny– he wanted to prove you're _gay_!"

Everything gets really cold, like blood doesn't want to move through my body. I shrug the blanket off of my shoulders. "But why... he doesn't know about Finn, unless you–"

"Whoa! I didn't say anything!" he asserts, suddenly moving his body closer to mine. "Man, you know I wouldn't say shit to him about, well, shit. He just had the inkling that you were..." He makes large gestures with his hands as he speaks. " _'Into men,'_ and now I guess he can sleep better at night because he knows that you _are_."

It's immediately apparent he did not mean to divulge that information. His eyes get really, really wide as my mouth hangs open. We're a couple of cartoon characters. I definitely feel unreal.

"So he knows about Marcello and I," I state.

Hadds's struggling to find the right words. "I mean–"

"And he told you."

"Well–"

"And you let me tell you about my weekend, but you didn't say anything."

"Come on, man, I was just–"

"I could beat you into a pulp right now."

"I would if I were you, honestly."

"I'm not... I don't know if I'm gay, though," I say. It comes out much whinier than I intend. "You know everything that happened, then? You know it all?"

I breathe deeply as he rubs his chin in thought, keeping me hanging on to the last shred of hope that my weekend exploits aren't in the public domain– "If 'it all' is the loss of your anal virginity, then, yes. I know 'it all.'" He smiles. "Congrats, by the way."

Adrenaline, anxiety, and alcohol, all amplified by Nine, launch me across the bed at speeds my thoughts can't catch up with, speeds Hadds can barely comprehend judging by his delayed yelp and the heavy exhalation against the edges of my lips as I pin him against the mattress, palms holding his shoulders in place, my expression angled and mirrored in his gaze as a streak of frustration– or maybe it's actually pent-up passion, it's impossible to discern between the two in my mind, and I'm trying to understand the difference when I kiss him, and my mind becomes more muddled when he kisses me back.

My grip loosens. He rises to a sitting position without breaking our mouth-to-mouth connection. Fluidly, he presses me against the wall, straddles my legs, and pushes into uncharted territory. There's crimson on his tongue, burnt crimson, and it's searching for color in my mouth, but the pale color that Marcello left has already dried up and chipped off.

He trails his hand up my leg, grazes my erection (okay, when did that happen) and traces my zipper before yanking it down. I don't protest. Something about the excitement, the impulsivity, is touching my kissed mind in all the right places.

Oh, my God. Speaking of being touched in all the right places.

With jeans at my knees and his hand rubbing me over my underwear, I realize that Hadds is not Marcello. Hadds is not gentle or empathetic. He doesn't ask questions. He seems to know without question. Or maybe he's just guessing.

Suddenly he pulls at my underwear with one hand and teases the tip of my dick with his other. My head jerks up and I let out the first moan that's ever escaped like a reflex. He smirks. Assuming he was "just guessing" before, he sure as hell isn't now.

We hear a bunch of giggling hall-mates outside the room, standing close to Hadds's door. He pauses, looks at me, and then a grin reappears as though a sickening idea just popped in his mind. Who am I kidding, it's Hadds; a sickening idea is definitely being plotted.

Without warning, he yanks my underwear off– I try not to feel self-conscious about his first glimpse at all of _that_ – and then he places a finger against my lips. When I look at him quizzically, he leans in and whispers, "you moan, you lose." He gives me one last confident smile before slowly lowering his head and tracing the side of my dick with his tongue.

Oh, God.

He licks up and down, then tantalizingly brushes the head before slipping my penis into his mouth.

Oh my _God._

He looks up at me, searching for validation. My face twists into ugly contortions as he strokes in time with the movement of his head. His tongue dances across my skin, adding another layer of unbearable pleasure. When I open my mouth and resist the urge to moan, he speeds up. He keeps his gaze glued on mine– his sexy, alluring, explosive, _fuckable_ gaze–

Oh, god, why do I want him to fuck me–

Oh–my _–fucking–_ God _–_ am _–_ I _–dying–_ holy _–fucking–_ shit _–_

Hadds wins.

I lose.

I'm paralyzed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, waiting for the fireworks to fade beneath my eyelids. Hadds's chuckles bring me back to reality. I open my eyes and see him wipe his lips with the back of his hand.

"Loser," he growls.

"Winner," I manage.

Without another thought, I reach for his zipper, but he grabs my wrists and holds in a laugh.

"Fuckin'... what?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Did you blow Marcello?"

I feel like there's no right answer to this. "Why?"

"Because if you didn't, I sure as hell don't want you to blow me."

He loosens his grip on my wrists. "So you're scared of not getting the optimum orgasm?" I retort.

"No, dumbass. If you blow me now, I'll be the first guy you've ever blown. Follow me?" I say nothing. He sighs. "Okay, it's like this. You'll go through life remembering I was _that guy_ that you blew first, whether you want to or not. And if things fall to shit between us– which, like, is probably inevitable at this point– you're gonna resent the hell out of me, because I was _that guy_ , and you can't take back that first blowjob, and I don't want you to lie awake at night because you can't get the taste of my cock out of your mouth." He leans in closer. "On the other hand, I've blown lots of guys. Plenty, maybe. Consider this charity."

Hadds kisses me, softer than before. I don't think about it much until later when I'm lying in my own bed, unable to sleep and wondering if I inadvertently swallowed my own semen.


	13. Winter Break

The first time we all got drunk together, we played Never Have I Ever. Adelis got out at the same time as Hadds and Finn followed shortly after. With seven fingers remaining, I was deemed the "winner," though everyone knows the _real_ winner of the game is whoever admits they did the worst drug or fucked the hottest person. The three things I owned up to were having a cat, living upstate, and riding the bus to school.

I'm trying to think of everything they said that night, and I'm putting a mental finger down for for the stuff I've done since then. I'm down to four fingers now. It feels good.

My newfound sense of badassery comes with a hefty price tag of _awkward_. In order to prevent a good amount of discomfort, I successfully avoided studying for the astronomy final with Hadds. At the exam, I nearly skipped the last page just to make sure I left before him.

Finn's been too busy churning out last-minute papers to make plans with anyone, but the minute he slams the dorm door shut and declares he's "done with school for, like, ever," he suggests we hit up Bends with our good pals from Burns. Anxiety eats me from the inside, but I can't deny him one more night of fun before we leave for break.

Hadds acts no different toward me than he did before he had my dick in his mouth. Adelis, always one to show emotions on his sleeve, appears unaware of what transpired that night. We all drink, and we have fun, and it's all par for course. What happened between Hadds and I seems like a tiny ripple in the middle of the ocean even though the forecast called for a tsunami. Still, I find myself staring at him all night, trying to squeeze some meaning out of every gleam in his eye. There's nothing there, though.

The next morning, Finn hugs me before heading to the bus station to go home. "Text me whenever you get fucked up," he says with a laugh, though I kind of figured that was going to happen no matter what.

Finn picks up his duffle bag and turns toward the door. I suddenly feel the need to make him stay a little longer.

"See you next year," I quip with a voice crack.

"Yeah. Take care," he replies. Then he hesitates. "Seriously. Text me, man." I assure him I will, all the while feeling the butterflies in my stomach careening into the wildfire that is _Hadds and I hooked up and you have no idea and oh God what am I supposed to do now?_

On the way home, between being scared my train car is somehow going to tip over due to the icy winter conditions, I make a promise to myself: When my friends ask how my semester was, I will keep the events down to a simple "I got fucked up a lot." Simple. Uncomplicated. Free of emotion.

But I end up getting drunk at a Hanukkah party and I spill my guts to my best friend after four beers and three shots of Fireball. "I like him so much and I don't know why," is my rallying cry of the night. My friend just pats me on the shoulder and tells me that feelings are dumb and I should probably have another shot. At the time, it's reassuring advice. When I wake up with a pit in my stomach and my shirt on backwards, I realize he's really shitty at comforting me.

The next weekend, though, I receive an unexpected group text from Adelis.

* * *

**To: You** , **finnean the rooooomieeee & Hadds buttfuck mcgee **

**Adelis LaLovesPenis:**

hey guysss I just wanted say I am KISSED AFFFF right now and Im missing all your bitch asses, I kinda cant wait to get back to school and drive you crazy again, welp that's it ENJOY YOUR SATURDAY FUCKFACES!

_**Received at 9:44 PM** _

* * *

Hadds is, unsurprisingly, the first to reply.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Get wreeeeecked. Haha I am currently getting turnt at my friend's apt, I'll take a shot for you

_**Received at 9:46 PM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

OH and I miss you guys!

_**Received at 9:46 PM** _

* * *

Oh, please. He only misses Adelis. Or... maybe he misses me, too? Now that we've hooked up, the image of Hadds in my head has blurred and rearranged itself. I feel like everything between us is different, in spite of all evidence pointing to the contrary. It's like I want things to change, even if they haven't.

Finn's text pops up and interrupts my train of thought.

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

LETS GOOOOO SATURDAY NIGHT

_**Received at 9:50 PM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

I WANT EVERYONE TO TAKE A SHOT FOR ME RIGHT THE FUUUCK NOWW

_**Received at 9:50 PM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

IM AT A PARTY LMAO HAHAHAHAAAA

_**Received at 9:50 PM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

BUT SERIOUSLY GUYS TAKE A FUCKIN SHOT

_**Received at 9:50 PM** _

* * *

Instinctively, I search through my drawers for the bottle of cherry vodka that I've been waiting to break out since I got home.

I haven't drank alone in my room since I was sixteen and my Uncle Rob handed me a beer at a family party. Instead of drinking it in front of everyone, naive little me smuggled the can to my room and drank it the next night, on my own. I tried to convince myself I got tipsy and bragged to my friends about it later.

I hadn't even considered drinking tonight, but hearing that everyone else was out partying encouraged me to get fucked up. This might be some sort of red flag for future alcoholism, but right now, I don't care.

Instead of simply informing Finn that I took a shot for him, I take a video on my phone of me downing a sip from the bottle. When I re-watch it, I realize my head is completely out of the frame. So I take another sip and another video... oh God, I look fat and tired with this lighting. The liquid sloshes around in my stomach when I jump up to turn on a lamp. Another sip, another take... I'll save that one, it's not too bad, but I could do without that grimace at the end. I fix my hair, then take one more video– _there,_ that's it.

* * *

**You:**

cheers dickwads ;)

_Attached: 1 Video_

_**Sent at 10:08 PM** _

* * *

Hilariously enough, all three of them respond with videos of them taking shots, too. Adelis is smiling throughout the whole thing. Finn screams about how gross the vodka smells before he takes his shot, then screams more about how gross it tastes after he downs it.

I watch Hadds's video twice. He looks pretty out of it before he drinks the amber-colored liquid in the glass. Then he flashes the camera a winning smile and chucks up deuces.

After my parents go to bed, I grab a jug of cranberry juice and a glass, then plug headphones into my laptop and listen to my "Party Time" playlist while doing the exact opposite of partying. Despite being alone, the camaraderie occurring in the group chat makes me feel like I'm surrounded by my friends.

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

who's lit

_**Received at 10:40 PM** _

* * *

**Adelis LaLovesPenis:**

All day baaabyyyy

_**Received at 10:40 PM** _

* * *

**You:**

lit like a fuckin birthday cake

_**Sent at 10:41 PM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Me? Never. Ever. Str8edge 4 lyf3

_**Received at 10:41 PM** _

* * *

I'm definitely drunk, and I know it because I've been drinking too much too fast. I kind of love being undeniably intoxicated and pumping up a personal party in my childhood room while my parents are sound asleep in the room across the hall. It's scary– oh my God, my door is locked, right? Oh, yeah, it is, the little middle thingy's pointing straight up– but I can't fucking believe I've never done it before. Why haven't I? Because I was too much of a nobody to have alcohol connections in high school? Because I was too scared to go out of my way to do anything super crazy last year? Or was it because–

_Ring. Ring._

Hold up. Why the fuck did my music just pause?

_Ring. Ring._

My eyes dart to my computer screen. The music stopped because I'm receiving a request for a video call. From _Hadds_.

I shouldn't answer it. It's a drunk dial. I'll get a glimpse of the inside of his pocket, then have to awkwardly hang up.

But my inner numbness conspires with my desire to know about what Hadds– _Hadds_ , of all people, holy fuck– could possibly want to say while he's got my face in the palm of his hands.

_Ring. Ring._

I don't have much time left to answer. Now or never.

_Ring. R–_

"Hello?"

I don't see the inside of his pocket. Instead, the screen displays his smug-looking, red-cheeked, mussy-haired head, staring into my eyes despite hundreds of miles of space between us. I'm breathless. I don't know why.

"Hey, Liam, long time no see."

"Yeah, a few weeks is a long-ass time."

He chuckles and opens his mouth to answer, but someone off-screen says something to him and he looks away to answer. I take a moment to push my bangs out of my eyes.

"Sorry. This party's weird. Did I ever tell you about this guy, Ben?"

"Ben? No." I take a long sip from my drink.

"Ugh, I'll tell you about it when I see you, he's started so much fuckin' drama tonight. What are you drinking?"

"This? Cherry vodka and cranberry juice."

He nods. "Looks good."

"Well, so do I. Gotta fit the aesthetic," I quip.

"Yeah, you do look good."

All I can find the strength to do is laugh and stare at him like _did you mean to say that?_ Luckily for me, he snorts and looks away from his phone with an expression that says _did I mean to say that?_ My mind races, trying to find a new topic to jump to after that, trying to divert my thoughts from what happened before we left for break–

"Sorry, that was weird," he apologizes. After a moment of hesitation, he continues. "But I mean, you do look good."

"W... well, thanks."

We're both quiet. I take another drink and stare at a point decidedly away from my laptop. He's looking straight at me the whole time.

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth before speaking up. "I should probably–"

"Why didn't you call Adelis?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I mean, like, when someone's drunk they usually call the person that they... you know..."

"I did," Hadds interjects. "He was too fucked up to talk. Hung up on me after fourteen seconds. So, if it's any consolation, you're beating his record. All awkwardness aside." He's grinning. I can't even remember what muscles I should move to form a smile.

"Yeah, that's a plus," I muster.

"Oh man, I shouldn't have called you," he mutters. "I'm too gone. I'm being a dick. I'll go."

"No, wait." I suddenly want him– _need_ him– to keep talking. "It's totally cool, I'm not doing anything."

"You're only saying that 'cause I accidentally hit on you."

"Maybe." I finish my drink while Hadds laughs.

"I'm gonna walk back to my house, so can I– this is going to sound weird– can I call you when I'm home?" He sounds nervous.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here."

When he hangs up, I take another shot. I mix another drink comprised of mostly vodka. I want to pack a bowl. I want to swallow the capsule of Nine I brought home. I want to be more fucked up than I've ever been.

He must be flirting with me because Adelis won't talk to him. There's no way I'm nothing but his second choice. I'm available, that's it, that's all I am. He's only talking to me because I'm here.

Oh, God, he's calling. It's a regular phone call, but that might be even worse. How can I have insight into what he's thinking when all I can hear is his smarmy-ass voice?

I drain half my glass, then try to sound cool. "Hey."

"Liam." He sounds less confident now. "I'm sorry."

"Stop, you don't–"

"No, you don't know why I'm sorry, so just be quiet for a minute, okay?" I obey. "I'm sorry because I think you're attractive, but I shouldn't have said it to you. Especially not now." He pauses. I'm ready to excuse myself from the call to go throw up. "I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

His tone was one layer of suggestion over another, begging me to tear back every bit of friendship we've worked so hard to strengthen so I can get to the core of what he wants. I'm petrified.

"Thinking about... me," is all I can say.

"Yeah, you. You don't give yourself enough credit." My body sinks further into my bed. "You're special, and– can I be real with you?"

Has he not already been "real" enough with me? "Go for it."

"I know I make it seem like I'm a total whore, but I don't just blow anyone without expecting something in return."

I'm suddenly very aware of how the room is spinning beneath me. The way he's mentioning our hook up so nonchalantly, the way he's making me shake and stammer– it's the kind of candidness that I never wanted from him. It feels like I wanted this from someone else, at another time, in another life. "Then why did you blow me?"

"Like I said, you're special. You're mysterious. I just kind of wanted to know what it was like to have your dick in my mouth, you know?" He laughs. "Nevermind, you don't know _that_ specific feeling..."

"Well, you never gave me the chance," I scoff, pissed that he thinks I'm some innocent kid.

He's quiet. "You're saying you wanted that chance?"

"Maybe."

"You and your maybes."

"You and your condescension." This drink was really kicking my sass game up a notch.

"Touché," Hadds says with a snicker. Then I hear him sigh. "So if you had the chance to go back, and, you know... fulfill your 'maybe...'" His low-pitched tone reaches into my stomach and tightens all of its knots. "Tell me about it."

Oh my God.

He didn't mean...

He's not trying to...

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me what you'd do to me." Hadds– with his low-pitched, breathy, crackling voice– isn't fucking around anymore. He's coming on to me. Not just that, though; he's trying to have phone sex with me.

And I have _no motherfucking idea_ how to proceed.

"W– well, I'd... I'd start by unzipping your jeans..."

"Mmhm."

I pull the phone away from my face and swallow hard. "And then I guess... I guess I'd..."

I go to take a sip of my drink, but I make the mistake of taking a whiff of the contents before bringing it to my lips. The smell of vodka races up my nose, a surge of liquid comes creeping up my esophagus, and my head gets light. Oh, shit.

"I– H– Hadds, I gotta go."

"What? Wh–"

I end the call before he has time to answer.

I spend the next hour in the bathroom, half puking, half trying not to cry, and generally trying to calculate how low I've sunk.


	14. Second Time

Waking up is terrible. Looking at my missed texts is worse.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Hey, I feel really weird about tonight. I'm sorry

_**Received at 4:23 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Okay,sorry for that lame-ass apology too. It's not enough to say that and expect things to be fine. I made things awkward between us and I know I shouldn't have

_**Received at 4:58 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Sorry for the text vomit too. I want to talk things out though. Maybe we can have an actual phone conversation tomorrow or something. Let me know

_**Received at 5:20 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

I hope I haven't woken you up. Goodnight

_**Received at 5:23 AM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

Liam I did something stupid last night

_**Received at 10:04 AM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

Oh god

_**Received at 10:04 AM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

I slept with ava...

_**Received at 10:05 AM** _

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

Fml

_**Received at 10:05 AM** _

* * *

I call Finn first.

"We were so drunk," he groans. "It was bad sex and I know it. I feel so stupid, oh God, I'm one of those losers who fucks his ex just because they're _there_..." As I let him pour his grievances into my ear, I wonder how difficult it would be to fashion a noose out of bedsheets.

For a second in time– maybe right after he and Ava broke up, maybe the moment before he left for winter break, I don't know– I thought there was hope. Naively, I thought Finn's eyes showed emotion that never left his mouth and every glance was an invitation to study him until I found the passion I was searching for. But it wasn't.

"I don't love her anymore," he tells me. "I don't know why I did it. I'm dumb. I'm impulsive."

Predictably, when I call Hadds, he uses similar phrasing. "It was all on impulse. Dumb, drunken impulse. I'm not sure how I thought it was okay. I was fucked up and horny and acting like a goddamn idiot. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I assure him.

"Is it going to be weird between us now?" he asks.

"We'll deal with it the same way we dealt with..." I take a breath. "With what happened before break."

"You mean we'll pretend it never happened."

"I guess," is my answer.

But all the while, my gut is sinking into the floor. I don't want to pretend. I'm sick of secrets. I want to be honest and fucking face things when they happen instead of letting them sit inside me until I can't keep them in any longer and everything tumbles out in waves of self-destruction.

When I finish talking to Hadds, I realize I have a headache. I'm not sure if I woke up with it or it came on during one of my phone calls. I'm nauseous, stressed, and exhausted, and it's not even noon.

Instinct carries me to the bathroom. I sit by the toilet and wonder if this is what my body needs or simply how I want to deal with my anxiety.

I go back and forth in my head, debating the details of the situation: I'm nauseous. Puking will help. I'm also in a great deal of emotional distress. Puking won't help, but that won't stop me from believing it will.

I think about Finn and how much he doesn't know, then I think about Hadds and how deep we've fallen in with one another, then I think about how little I want to do with anyone at all.

I slip two fingers into my mouth, slide them across the top of my tongue, and push back until I gag. It helps until it doesn't.

•

Finn hugs me for a minute straight when we see each other again.

"Break was shitty," he mumbles into my shoulder.

"Yeah," I agree.

"I'm glad to be back."

"Same."

He pulls away. "Let's drink tonight."

"It's Sunday."

"Never stopped us before." And it doesn't stop us tonight.

Adelis grew out his hair and Hadds got his bangs cut. Adelis regales us with stories about drug-fueled hook-ups with the brothers of his friends and Hadds talks with feigned nonchalance about how he almost got involved in an orgy. I briefly mention the two parties I attended and Finn rushes through a summary of all the times he got drunk.

Finn doesn't say anything about Ava. Neither do I.

Hadds doesn't look me in the eyes. I follow suit.

We have a quiet night in with boxed wine and we don't meet up again until Adelis has plans to push drugs at a Thirsty Thursday house party.

Hadds is absent from this get-together. When asked about it, Adelis just shrugs and says that his roommate has been "super tired lately." He's never skipped a party before.

I feel responsible. No, I can't _not_ be responsible.

Guilt-ridden nausea makes it hard to binge drink. I pour some of my rum and coke into Finn's cup when he's not looking.

I creep behind Adelis on the way to the party, shivering as the cold air strangles me, barely able to open my mouth enough to laugh at whatever Finn's joking about. I'm not drunk, I'm hardly tipsy, but I still feel disconnected from the world, like my mind is floating away and attempting to connect with Hadds through the airwaves.

It's futile. I think I lost a friend without even trying.

•

Blue and green Christmas lights illuminate the party. The keg is located beneath a short, undecorated pine tree that has clearly exceeded its holiday expiration date. Finn, drunker than planned (admittedly due in part to my upset stomach) grabs an extra cup and runs off to get water for the dying tree. When I turn to stop him, someone tugs at my waist. I whip around and stare up at Marcello.

"Hey, long time no see!" he says with vigor and a grin. He's happy, _genuinely_ happy, to see the face of a guy with which he had an uncomfortable one night stand. On the other hand, I'm positive my expression is radiating panic.

"Yeah, totally," I cough out.

"How was your break?"

"Good, yours?"

"Pretty good, yeah." He's holding a beer, but I smell whiskey on his breath. "Yeah, it was pretty good. How'd you do?"

"Huh?"

"In Jun's class! Our class- Socio... socio–ology. How'd you do?"

"Oh, uh, I got an A minus."

His eyes widen. "Holy Jesus, no kidding? I got a B. A fuckin' B! We worked hard on that final, y'know? Thought it would bump up my–" His sentence is interrupted by a burp. "–'Scuse. My grade, y'know?"

I chuckle, weirdly enticed by whatever fucked-up state he's in. He's not as put-together as usual. It's endearing.

Anxiety crumbles as we joke about kids in our class and gripe about our professor's off-topic rants. He generally makes me smile– if not a little worried that he's going to vomit on me at any given moment– and the knots in my stomach loosen enough for me to quickly down a few beers. I only start to wonder about Finn's whereabouts when Marcello pulls me in for a close-quarters dance.

"Is this okay?" he breathes into my ear. The hair on my neck stands up.

"It's okay." It's okay because I'm not thinking about Hadds anymore. Instead, I'm thinking about how nice it is to share someone's body heat.

I drink more. Marcello drinks more. I text Finn to let him know I'm leaving the party, but I don't respond when he asks where I ran off to.

Marcello's more than drunk when we fall into his bed. His kisses are loose and sloppy. I wipe his spit off my chin every so often, but I let him continue because I have no reason to ask him to stop.

"You're so gorgeous," he tells me with slurred speech. I'm suspended above his body, propped up by my arms, straddling his legs between my own. "So goddamn hot."

I don't know how to respond. "Thanks."

He bites his lip and turns away from my face. "I don't wanna tell you something, but I do."

"What?"

"I only wanna say it 'cause I'm drunk."

My heartbeat quickens. "Oh. Then maybe don't–"

"I like you. A lot." He's still not looking at me. "I think... I think I really fucked up by taking you home that one night. Really fucked up. Badly." He rises into a sitting position with some trouble, like he's not sure which way is up and which way is down. "Did I fuck things up when I did that? You can tell me, just tell me, tell me."

"You didn't fuck things up," I say quietly.

"Really?" Marcello chuckles, then hiccups. "But I bet I fucked things up right now with the... the... _feelings_."

I shake my head. "It's okay."

"You're just r– really cool," he mutters.

"You're cool too."

His eyes open a little more, though he still seems close to toppling over. "So you like me too?"

I open my mouth, then close it, then look to the window, then at my hands, all the while trying to downplay the sensation of terror mounting in my chest. If I say yes, I'm lying. If I say no, then why the fuck did I come home with him?

_Why did I come home with him?_

Suddenly, I realize I'm out of place in this room. I don't fit in with the post-it notes, the dirty clothes, _Romeo + Juliet_ , the clutter that's accumulated without me. This is the second time I didn't mean to end up here. The second time I let him happen to me.

I look down at Marcello's heavy-lidded stare and see pale yellows. Pale, baby-blanket yellows. The longer I take to grasp at words and sentiments in my head, the quicker his gaze fades into gray.

"I, uhm, I–"

"It's okay." His voice cracks. He's colorless now. "You don't have to... don't have to..." He cuts his sentence short and shoots straight up in bed, an expression of alarm plastered on his face. "'Scuse," he mumbles before leaning over the side of his bed to violently throw up. His stream of puke only _just_ misses the trash can and ends up on my shirt. It was a valiant effort, really.

Considering I probably broke Marcello's heart, I decide I should stay to make sure he doesn't die. I grab him some water, a towel, and a new garbage bag for his vomit. He lends me one of his t-shirts and apologizes to me between bouts of barfing. Then I text Finn that I'll be back in the morning. No response.

I massage Marcello's back until nothing else comes up. Eventually he gurgles feebly, hangs his head low, and stops moving for a bit.

"Hey. Marcello." I shake his shoulder and hear him breathing deeply. He fell asleep hunched over a bag filled with his own vomit. Poetic.

I carefully remove the bag o' bile from his lap, ease him onto his side, and place a pillow under his head. For a second, I consider writing him a note:

_Dear Marcello, I went back to my dorm. It's been fun, but I'm too confused with my own life to date you. You're probably too good for me anyway. Oh, and you sound kind of scary when you puke. See you around (because campus isn't big and we'll probably run into each other again). Best wishes. From, Liam._

Okay, that's probably not the best idea. I lie down and stare at the walls instead.

Streetlight filters in from the window and shines on a handful of polaroids that hang on the wall beside the bed. Each one displays Marcello and his friends wearing classy outfits and drinking. One particular photo features Sarita sticking her tongue out, a Four Loko in her grip. If I stare at it for too long, I start to feel uncomfortable.

I lay awake for an hour listening to Marcello breathe, letting the thought of Hadds infiltrate my thoughts again. Though it's premature, I'm assuming our friendship is over. I go over each detail of our conversation that happened on the phone after _that_ night, wondering if I said something wrong.

Then I start thinking about his voice in my ear. The sexually-charged rumble in his tone. What could've happened. What I could have said, and what _he_ could have said.

A dull ache resides in my palms. Blood rushes between my legs. Oh my God. Oh my _God_.

I crawl out of bed and pace the floor in frantic circles, trying to cool down and think about dead bunnies and icy tundra and creepy little girls from horror moves. Anything but Hadds, or what his moans sound like, or what I'd want him to say to me in his low-pitched growl...

Oh, _fuck_.

Impulsively, I leave Marcello's room and attempt to focus on the creaking of the floorboards as I tiptoe toward the bathroom. I'm so preoccupied that I nearly collide with someone who's exiting a bedroom.

"Shit, sorry," I mumble.

The other person laughs nervously. The familiar sound drains all the heat from my body in an instant.

Finn's not wearing a shirt. His pajama pants are embroidered with Greek letters. Meanwhile, I'm sporting a shirt that bears the name of Marcello's high school and a half-torqued boner tucked in my jeans.

"Hey," murmurs Finn.

"Hi," I reply.

I'm not sure which of us should be more embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there's been a lot of puke in the story lately. My apologies.   
> Thanks for reading though! Feel free to leave a comment with whatever pairing you're liking the best, I'm always interested in knowing which ship is getting the most love. :')


	15. Knotted

It's six in the morning, lightly snowing, and I'm accompanying Finn on a tandem walk of shame.

"Pretty brisk out," he comments through his teeth. He's got a smear of eyeliner on his cheek but I haven't told him yet. He'll figure it out for himself.

Just after the sun began to rise, Finn texted me asking if I wanted to walk back to Silverton together. I obliged, unable to sleep beside a snoring Marcello. We haven't spoken a word about why we were in the same apartment wearing other people's clothes at four AM. I still have Marcello's shirt on under my jacket.

Exhausted in more ways than one, I revel in the hush that exists between Finn and I until we get back to our dorm room. Sunlight peeks through our shades as Finn takes off his jacket and I catch a glimpse of his neck.

"You, uh," I stammer. He looks at me inquisitively and I point to my neck. "Got something there."

He glances into the mirror on his dresser and groans. "Oh, hooray." After taking off his shirt in one swift motion, he sits up in bed and mashes his palms against his eyes. I hop into bed, more than ready for sleep, but he speaks up as I'm pulling the covers over myself. "You probably think I'm a fucking idiot."

"No, I don't. What the hell, Finn?"

"I called you over break going ballistic about hooking up with Ava, and then you find me half-naked in Sarita's apartment. Admit it. I'm a wreck."

"Man, everyone's a wreck. Don't worry about it." A pang of guilt hits my stomach, reminding me of everything I haven't told him.

"Yeah, but I didn't have to go home with her. I just saw you, and then I..." I squint at him when he pauses mid-sentence. "I mean–"

"Saw me? When'd you see me?" Inwardly, I'm praying he didn't notice me grinding with Marcello.

"I meant, like..." He's grasping for words, which is a rarity for him. Probably still a little intoxicated. "I came in with you, and then I lost you, then I saw her. I was so gone but I kept drinking. She smoked me up, and the next thing I knew I was following her home. Like a fucking puppy. Another mistake, right after Ava..."

"Come on, don't be so hard on yourself."

"But I wanna be hard on myself," groans Finn. He flops down on the bed and I turn onto my back. "You never seem to fuck up as badly as I do. How do you do it?" Laughter escapes my lips and Finn turns onto his side to stare me down. "Liam," he says cautiously. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

I pull a blanket to my chin to hide my expression. No, no, no. I am _not_ having this conversation right now. "I meant, just... like, in general, I fuck things up all the time–"

"Does this have anything to do with why you were at Sarita's apartment last night?" The only sound I offer in return is the fearful thumping of my heart. " _Liam_."

"I was visiting a friend. Marcello."

Finn hesitates before speaking. "Marcello. Groupmate Marcello."

"Yeah."

"The guy you went to the bar with one time."

"Yes. That guy." My voice is wavering and I know it.

"So, did you–"

"No, Finn," I say loudly, trying to shout over the ringing of my pulse in my ears. "It's six AM. I'm going to sleep. I advise you do the same." He doesn't say another word.

I keep waking up throughout the morning, haunted by a half-conscious delusion that Finn is staring at me while I sleep.

•

Days go by with no word from Hadds. After a week passes, I make the impulsive decision to become a full-fledged member of Team Adelis. Adelis is overjoyed. I'm incalculably worried. Hadds still finds ways to avoid me.

Marcello texts me every morning, smiley faces adorning his messages. I make an effort to kill the conversation before nightfall. My best record is shutting him up at half past five. Being truthful about my feelings has the potential to end his texts indefinitely, but the attention is addictive.

Plus, Marcello's always hanging around Adelis nowadays. God knows what a delicate soul like Marcello could possibly want with the devil's incarnate, but I've seen Marcello in Adelis's room more times than I've caught a glimpse of Hadds this semester. If I ended things with Marcello now, the hypothetical discomfort would be tangible enough to crush my rib cage.

Almost two weeks pass before Marcello stops trying to get my attention via text. On the same day, I get a message from Adelis as I'm walking back from delivering Nine to a neighboring dorm.

* * *

**Adelis LaLovesPenis:**

hey duuude can you come over to burns? it's important thanks

_**Received at 6:21 PM** _

* * *

However, when I get there, it's not Adelis who meets me at the door.

Hadds looks tired. His hair is disheveled and he's hunched over, but he speaks with vibrancy. "'Sup, man?"

Blood starts rushing. I start stuttering. "H– hey, I, uh, is Adelis here?"

"Nope."

"Then why–"

"I want to catch up." He sits on the bed and criss-crosses his legs, leans his elbows on either knee, and stares at me with remnants of a smirk on his face. I stand in front of him with trembling hands. I want this, I guess the whole reason I took on this drug-slinging side job was to see if I could patch things up between us– but _God_ , I am not prepared for this today.

Though I'd planned this reunion in my head, it all goes out the window in a flurry of frustration. "I haven't seen you in fucking forever, and you just... you just wanna _catch up_?"

He shrugs. "Yeah. How have you been?"

"Hadds, you can't be serious–"

"Look, I'm trying to do you a favor and start small talk before I lay my shit out on the table." He doesn't look smug anymore. I stay quiet. "Now, how have you been?"

"Fine. You?" I say through my teeth.

"Managing."

"Great. Is that enough 'small talk' for you?"

"It'll suffice."

I climb up onto Adelis's bed– it's hard to sink into– and lean against the wall, my head grazing a photo of Adelis planting a kiss on some guy's cheek. "What's going on?" I ask. It's not a question as much as a plea.

Hadds digs his fingernails into the side of his mattress. "Does Marcello like Adelis?"

This isn't where I expected the conversation to go. "What? I don't know. Why?"

"He– Marcello– talks about you a lot. Adelis looks at him like he's some sort of savior, but he acts like he's still infatuated with you. Adelis is convinced they're gonna date, and maybe they will, but that doesn't mean a damn thing if Marcello's got other feelings. Does he still have a thing for you?" Hadds furrows his brow.

"He took me home at the start of the semester," I say slowly. "But we didn't fuck. Probably because he was too drunk to do anything except puke."

"Gotcha," he murmurs.

I realize I'm blushing. "Why did you ask about that?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Based on what I've seen, Adelis is going to get hurt by this guy. I should be looking at it like it's a good thing because then he'll stay available for me, right? But I don't see it that way."

"I'm impressed," I admit. "You care enough about Adelis to want what's best for him."

He shakes his head and chuckles softly. "That's the problem, Liam. I'm not interested in what's best for him."

Hadds's expression reminds me of storm clouds. Nervous energy seizes me. "I'm not sure what you're saying."

"For once, I don't give a shit about who Adelis dates, or kisses, or fucks."

"Why?"

"You wanna know _why_ I stopped caring about it?" Thunder rumbles in his words. I nod and he grits his teeth. Silence carries us through the seconds before he responds. "I got preoccupied with you." My stomach lurches, the air thickens, every noise in the room becomes fuzzy. Hadds refuses to make eye contact with me. He sounds water-logged as he speaks, trying to convince me that his previous statement actually means nothing at all, even though I keep repeating it in my mind. "I'm always going to be stuck with feelings for Adelis, that's just how it is. But lately I haven't been thinking about him as much because of the way you and I have been acting with each other, and it's– God, maybe it's good, maybe it's bad, I don't know. I only knew I had to stay away from you when we got back to school because... I was scared I fucking liked you." He talks about his emotions like they're demons preparing to slit his throat.

My voice refuses to increase past a loud whisper. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say a damn thing," Hadds replies, a sudden cheeriness in his tone. "I'm happy to report that I've discovered that I'm not hopelessly crushing on you after all."

"Oh," I mutter.

"'Oh?' Did you _want_ me to like you?"

Of course not, that would just complicate things. "No, I..." But what about that night at Marcello's? What about pacing around and the pain in my palms and having to distract myself– "That's not what I wanted."

"Yeah, me neither. Would really fuck things up for our stupid soulmate predictions, wouldn't it?" He's bitter, but he's laughing. "No, I don't like you, Liam. Make sure you get that through your head."

"Right."

"No crush here."

"I get it."

"And, for the sake of being completely honest, the reason I can't stop thinking about you is because I want to fuck you." He smiles. It's a sick, satisfied grin, stretching wider and wider until he swallows my stunned expression in a single gulp.

It takes me a full minute to pry my body off of Adelis's bed. "Thanks for being truthful," I mumble, unable to look at him and desperately in need of the nearest toilet.

Hadds leaps off the bed. "Hey, wait," he says in a soft voice. "I didn't want to–"

"Why the hell would you tell me that? Why would you– after everything!" I'm yelling and I don't know why. I want to cry, tears burn behind my eyes, but I keep pushing out emotionless words, trying to understand my own feelings by screaming at him. "We're just fucking friends, Hadds! We've pushed away everything else that's happened between us, but this... how can I possibly act normal around you after this? What are you...? _Why_ did you..."

I'm out of words. I'm nothing more than a silent, shaking mess. There's tension– fear, maybe– in Hadds's mien as he takes a step back. "I'm sorry," he says flatly. "I honestly thought you felt the same."

"Why the hell would you think–"

"The way you look at me, the things you were saying on the phone over winter break, that night when you kissed me first..." He loses steam as he talks. "Shit, Liam, it's not ridiculous to assume you're into me! So I made Adelis text you even though he's gone until late tonight, 'cause I thought you'd say you felt the same as me and we'd have the room to ourselves and– God, fuck, forget it, I must be crazy." He turns away and clasps the back of his neck in anguish.

I trudge to the door. My hand hesitates on the handle as my thoughts race. I have a chance to leave Hadds now and untangle the web I've been knotting since the night I kissed him for the first time, but I can't bring myself to go. Everything he said was true. I made the first move on him. I never rejected his advances. He's not crazy to think I'm into him, because I... maybe...

My hand slips away from the door handle. I can't leave this unfinished.

"Hadds." He turns around to look at me, preparing to be yelled at again. "You asked Adelis to text me?" He nods. "Were you too scared to do it yourself?"

"Not scared," says Hadds defensively. "I didn't want you to be expecting all of this."

"I definitely wasn't."

"Sorry." I wave my hand dismissively. He clears his throat. "It's an Adelis tactic, actually. During orientation, he made me invite one of our friends to our room, but when the guy got there, I was conveniently gone and he was alone with Adelis. They fucked, of course," he explains.

"So wouldn't Adelis _expect_ you to be banging me right now?" I ask.

"I told him I just wanted to prank you. He's too busy fawning over Marcello to think things out, anyway." Hadds bites his lip and takes a moment to construct his sentence. "What... Why are you still here?"

"Well, you put so much work into arranging this hook-up, I wouldn't want all of your effort to go to waste," I quip.

He laughs nervously. "Are you fucking with me?"

I put one hand on my hip and smirk. "Not yet."

Hadds's eyes open as wide as his mouth. When an awe-struck, high-pitched squeak escapes his lips, I burst out laughing. "You _are_ fucking with me," he groans as his cheeks turn red.

"Maybe." I move toward him.

In black jeans and a striped button-up, Hadds has clearly dressed to impress. His bed is unusually free of clutter and his stereo is turned on. I take in the pre-meditated surroundings as I lean in closer, unsure of the future and aware of how tightly I'm knotting the webs that connect Hadds and I.

We fool around; we don't fuck. It's scary and exhilarating and I don't want to stop, but eventually we separate our bodies and don't kiss goodbye, somehow rekindling our friendship by adding benefits to the mix.

When I finally leave his room, I use mouth wash to eradicate a certain taste from my lips and put another finger down in my mental game of Never Have I Ever. I'm satisfied.


	16. Now Or Never

We play it cool. We act casual. We don't touch each other in public. We're friends, just friends, until the door's locked and we let the air escape our lungs. We're friends until we're alone.

He hasn't told Adelis, I haven't told Finn. They've gotten close to discovering the truth though: last week when I heard my dorm's door handle jiggle, I had a split second to throw a blanket over my exposed erection and pretend that Hadds was merely looking for something under the covers.

"When do you want to do it again?" he always asks. _Do it_ could mean anything. _Do it_ has not yet lead to sex. _Do it_ is a frightening, anxiety-inducing sentiment that seizes my chest and resonates in my palms. Despite my prior experiences, I see myself as a scared virgin. I'm not ready for the implications of _do it_. I succeed at holding him off until something snaps.

The turning point comes at a frequent customer's apartment party. Some girl I've never met starts up a game of spin the bottle with her empty Molson Canadian. The participants are few: me, Finn, Hadds, and three unknown girls.

I reluctantly kiss two of the strangers before Finn's spin lands on me. Tension runs high, but it doesn't exist between Finn and I; it's Hadds's stare that makes my hair stand on end.

Finn, cross-faded and giggling, leans in to me. "This might get awkward," he says through his chuckles. I'm queasy.

"Oh, come on," Hadds mumbles as Finn brings his face closer to mine. "Nothing you haven't done before."

God, I could murder Hadds for that comment. I pray that Finn didn't hear it, but his amused expression fades to show a kind of vulnerability I've never seen from my roommate. He brushes the corner of my mouth with his lips. His skin is stiff and cold.

Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, I start to excuse myself from the game, but Adelis's cackling laugh cuts me off. "Reliving high school? Can I join?" He wedges himself between Finn and I on the couch. Finn appears distant.

One of the girls tells no one in particular that she used to play spin the bottle so she could kiss other people's boyfriends. Adelis's eyes sparkle. "Well, now's your chance," he announces as he straightens his back. "I just so happen to be someone's boyfriend." I notice Hadds pause in mid-sip of his beer. Adelis glances at him and beams. "Only cheek kisses for me, unfortunately. Wouldn't want word getting back to the mister about any infidelity."

When my next spin lands on Hadds, he grabs my shirt and pours bitterness into my mouth with his tongue. He texts me after the party ends.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

You want to get a hotel room tomorrow? I'll pay

_**Received at 3:53 AM** _

* * *

_**•** _

"It's Marcello. Adelis let it slip to me last night, I forgot to tell you. He's dating Marcello."

Finn is looking at me, awaiting a reaction. I spark the lighter and pull the corners of my mouth into a rigid line. "Good for him," I respond.

"Isn't that weird to you?" he asks as I hand him the lighter.

"No. They've been friends for a while, it makes sense."

He scoffs, then takes a hit from my bowl before speaking. "You think Adelis is doing it out of spite?"

I don't like the way he said that. It was cautious and curious– he's prying. He knows that there's something I'm not divulging, god _damn_ him. "Not sure what you mean," I say.

"Marcello liked you," states Finn. "Correct?"

The way I reply to this inquiry will cause ripples, and I'm not ready to experience the aftermath. I try to laugh my way through it. "I'm not sure."

"I saw you two dancing at that party a few weeks ago," he announces with ease, like I should've been expecting this admission. "People don't usually dance like that unless they're trying to– get with someone. You know?" He's not looking at me, but somehow I feel his gaze piercing my chest and scratching at my veins. I want to tear him out of my body, lock him in this room, and run away. But I can't. I'm trapped. We're stuck.

My voice wavers as I speak. "I guess, but it's not–"

"So he liked you?"

"I don't... I can't–"

"Liam, it's okay. You can tell me."

He's looking at me now. His mournful gaze begs me to tell the truth. He's hurt. I _hurt_ him. I tried to protect something I can't grasp, and in turn, I damaged us.

I can't cry, so I talk.

I tell him everything my mind allows me to say. I talk about the night at Bends and feeling cold in Marcello's bed and why I saw Finn half-naked at four in the morning.

After it's all out of my mouth, Finn leans back. "Fuck," he murmurs. He sparks the lighter and brings it close to the bowl, then changes his mind. He places the bowl on my desk and pats my shoulder. "I think I'm too high for all this, Liam. I'm going to go for a walk."

"I meant to tell you sooner," I sputter.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm– I'm pretty stoned, okay? It's not you, it's just... I gotta walk or something. It's not you, it's not... I'll be back."

It's snowing but he doesn't take his coat. I listen to his footsteps fade from earshot as my phone vibrates.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

room 32. come soon

_**Received at 4:13 PM** _

* * *

_**•** _

_I don't want to do this_ , I think in the back of a cab.

_I'm not ready to do this_ , my mind screams as I walk into a dingy motel.

I take a deep breath outside of room 32. _I'll never be ready to do this,_ I decide, then I knock on the door.

He's wearing the black jeans and the striped button-up. There's a bottle of tequila on the table, like he promised. I've got a dub and a six pack in my backpack, like I promised. I open my mouth, but he speaks first, words filtering through a smirk. "Your hair's wet. You showered?"

"You didn't?"

"Touché. I figured that would come after, but hey, I'm not opposed to a squeaky-clean Liam," he says. "Your alcohol is on the table."

I throw my backpack on the meticulously-made bed. "The stuff you requested is in there. You sure we can smoke in here?"

"I brought my vape. Don't worry."

The TV's on. There's a generic cop show playing. Anticipant, tinny music fills the silence as I approach a table, only to notice a box of condoms lying beside the liquor. They're packaged in yellow. _Ribbed and lubricated for maximum pleasure._ I open the tequila and take a gulp.

Hadds is not calm. He's pacing, reading the label on his beer, pretending to be absorbed in the television. His discomfort almost puts my nerves at ease.

Five quiet minutes pass. I can't find the right words to break the hush. Maybe saying _I want to leave_ will strike up some conversation.

But Hadds sits back on the bed, spreads his legs apart, and nestles the bottle between his thighs. He gazes at me expectantly. I take a seat in front of him, eyes glued to the alcohol resting on his crotch.

He takes a sip. "Well, this is going great," he says after wiping liquid off his lips.

"Right," I mumble.

"You shouldn't be nervous, you know."

I give him a _really?_ look. "I can't help it." I drink. "But for what it's worth, you shouldn't be nervous either."

I'm waiting for a confident retort, but he just chuckles.

We're quiet again. The cops on TV interrogate a witness. He drinks more, a scowl chasing every swig from the bottle.

"Why did you want me to come here, anyway?" I ask.

Hadds smiles. "It felt like the right thing to do at the time."

"But now it's... not the right thing?"

"Maybe less so, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm not gonna fuck you for the first time in a dorm room."

"That's why you brought me here? I thought we were going to do homework together," I joke.

Hadds grins. "God, you're so fucking nervous. I can hear it in your voice."

"Says the guy who's got a death grip on his beer," I shoot back as my cheeks flush.

He licks his lips. "How many people do you think I've slept with?"

"I... why–"

"Take a guess."

"Fuck, I don't know. At least ten." He smirks. I narrow my eyes. "More than ten?" Instead of answering, he takes another sip. "Just tell me."

He rests his head on the wall and lets the words escape like a groan. "Two. _Two_. One was a one-night stand. Let that sink in."

Someone on TV gets shot. A cop screams for backup. I stare at Hadds's hands and watch as the bottle in his fist quivers.

I'm looking at Hadds, I'm wanting him, but Finn is living in the back of my mind. Our conversation about Marcello is pulsing in my fingertips. I need it to leave my body.

I lean forward and dislodge the beer from Hadds's grip. He looks offended in the split second before I bring my lips to his.

"What the hell, Liam," he mutters between kisses.

"Look, I know I'm gonna back out if I have enough time to think about this."

"So your solution is to not think about it."

I shrug. "It's kind of now or never."

"Now or never," he repeats. Then he nods toward the table. "Grab the condoms, slick."

As I grab the box, I notice a familiar sight lying on the table. I turn around and hold up the small, plastic bag containing two purple pills. "Wow, Hadds. Thanks for the invite."

He claps his hands together. "Oh, right, that. You're free to take some if you want."

"I'm assuming you already have."

He smiles. His cheeks are extremely red. "You assume correctly." I chase a half dose with tequila.

In retrospect, it's a shitty idea. My kisses get sloppier. My reactions are delayed. I can't even focus on my boner because I get tingly every time Hadds's skin comes in contact with mine. We are sweaty and uncoordinated, a feverish collision of tactless bodies with no destination.

The cop show culminates in the background, serenading our attempt at passion with gunshots and yelling. Feeling lost, I break away from Hadds and glance at the clock on the nightstand. We've been making out for half an hour. Both of us are still fully clothed.

"Is this weird?" I ask, trying to keep my eyes on Hadds and not the swirling design of the sheets beneath him.

"Nah," he sighs. His eyes are half-closed. "We're just heating up."

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

"Loosen up, man. You're nervous."

"No, I'm not nervous anymore." Nine probably helped with that. "I'm antsy."

"Antsy, huh? Got ants in your pants? Wanna take 'em off?" Hadds chuckles at his own idiocy, but I notice he's slurring his words and he has yet to look me in the eyes. He reaches over to the nightstand and holds up the ziplock bag. "You're free to take another go."

I raise an eyebrow. "You want me to take the other half? Shouldn't I wait a little longer or something?" Memories of lying on my back in the dining hall come to mind.

With trembling fingers, he extracts the leftovers of my pill from the bag. "If you're not gonna do it, I will." He turns it over in his hands. He's waiting for me to speak up.

"You're nervous," I say flatly.

He snickers. "I won't be in a minute." The half dose is swallowed dry. I divide the other pill with a pocket knife and follow suit.

It slides down my throat with heavy resistance. I feel every groove in the uneven cut as the pill leaves chalk lines on my esophagus. I don't notice much of a difference until minutes later when my vision blurs.

My eyes struggle to adjust to a new, tilted version of reality, full of vibrancy and energy in the air that hits my cheeks and pulses in my hands. There's waves around me– the walls are pouring down in constant streams– and Hadds– oh, God.

I look down and see Hadds's figure becoming less solid by the second until he's liquified beneath me. He's touching me– no, he's taking off my pants, but I can't feel it.

"Lie down for me," he says, his words bubbling like boiling water.

This is a mistake.

This isn't the right time.

"I can't–"

"Lie down," he repeats.

_Lie down_. The words echo in my head, franticness increasing with each repetition. _Lie down. Lie down. Now or never. Lie down._

"Lie down," I mutter.

He stops tugging at my zipper. "Liam, are you okay?"

My hands are hot, _so_ fucking hot _,_ and my mouth is shriveling up. God, I need to drink something. I need to feel coldness on my hands.

I don't know how I end up on the floor. I must have slid down here, desperate to reach the tequila. Hadds is shouting something but the sensation of the cool glass bottle on my palms is sending off fireworks in my brain.

"Liam," he says, or maybe not, maybe he said, "lie down," I don't know, I don't know– I need to drink–

I guzzle tequila. It's incredible, it's relieving, so I keep chugging. I drink until he pulls me up by the collar.

I can't feel anything in my body as vomit climbs up my throat. I'm senseless as he carries me to the bathroom, unable to muster a single emotion about how badly I've fucked up and how embarrassed I should be and how we both know we never should have come here in the first place but we'll never admit we were wrong, we were so _goddamn_ wrong–

I feel nothing except for the sensation of his hands in my hair. My consciousness is slipping. I'm fading. Life's better this way, I think.

I wonder if he still wants to fuck.


	17. Collapse

We take a cab back to campus. The world spins around my head as I distract myself from throwing up. I'm saddled with the idea that I disappointed Hadds, but his expression just looks distant.

He pays for the ride and walks me back to Silverton. "I'm sorry," I blurt out as we reach the front door.

"No need to be." He shrugs and starts walking away. "Just feel better."

He texts me the next morning.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

I just wanted to clarify that nothing you did yesterday was your fault. Next time, let's try again without any drugs

_**Received at 9:40 AM** _

* * *

**You:**

i think it was just the wrong time

_**Sent at 10:03 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Maybe.

_**Received at 10:10 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

Did you really get mega fucking kissed though? You should've been fine, it was 1 pill taken in 2 doses

_**Received at 10:11 AM** _

* * *

**You:**

i did. idk. i usually dont drink liquor with it so maybe that's why?

_**Sent at 10:12 AM** _

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

I asked Adelis and he said it's not a good idea to mix a lot of alc and 9. Also he wants to know if you want to smoke around 12ish. But jsyk Marcello's gonna be there too... could be potentially awkward?

_**Received at 10:22 AM** _

* * *

**You:**

im willing to risk it. see you later

_**Sent at 10:22 AM** _

* * *

After two bowls, Marcello's fleeting glances become enduring stares. Adelis is– naturally– perched on his boyfriend's lap, chatting away about spring break plans; he's oblivious to the way Marcello's eyes have grown hungry with longing.

Hadds and I sit side-by-side on his bed. Purposeful or not, we've inched closer to one another after every hit. When Adelis kisses Marcello's nose, Hadds's fingers graze my thigh. Hadds, like Marcello, seems to be aching for something only I can offer.

"Marc and I will be on the beach every day, and there's a bar nearby that never IDs," Adelis explains, though no one's acknowledging his boasting. "He's been talking about tanning, but I don't see how he could get any darker! Right babe?" Marcello grunts in agreement. Adelis laughs. "Aww, you're _so_ high. I see it in your eyes..."

"Nah, I'm not that bad," mumbles Marcello.

"Sure, babe, sure," Adelis says, then looks over at Hadds. "What are you doing over break, anyway?"

Hadds crosses his arms. "Drugs, probably. Maybe kill a man if I'm feeling frisky." He nudges my shoulder with his elbow. "Hey Liam, wanna come with me and help hide the body? It'll be fun."

"Okay. I'm always up for a felony," I quip.

"Of course." Hadds chuckles before straightening his face. "I'm not kidding about coming with me, though. Do you wanna visit during break?"

"Visit... you?"

"No, Superman. AKA: me. So _yes_ , me."

In spite of his cloudy eyes, nervousness pierces his expression. He's scared I'm going to say no.

"Sure."

"Great." He smiles. I smile. "You'll have to come at the end of the week though. My mom's making me visit her side of the family for the first three days."

"Wait a sec," Adelis interjects, his know-it-all tone shattering intense eye contact between Hadds and I. "Doesn't your mom's family live in Puerto Rico?"

My eyes widen. "You're going to Puerto Rico?"

Hadds groans in response. "Yes, Jesus, it's not that cool. Getting plastered on the beach isn't as fun when you're drinking in the company of your mom and elderly relatives."

When I relay this news to Finn, he stops me halfway through the story. "What?" I ask. "You didn't know Hadds is Puerto Rican?"

"No, no, I knew that. I'm interested in the fact that you have the first three days of break completely free." He chews on the end of a pen as he talks. "You should stay at my house at the beginning of the week. It's on the opposite side of the island from Hadds, but he's still only a bus ride away."

The optimistic part of my mind considers Finn's quick response to be a sign of jealousy. For a few blissful moments, I trick myself into believing that.

•

Adelis, Marcello, and I smoke together every few days. Sometimes Hadds joins, sometimes Finn does, but the three of us never fail to show up to smoking sessions. I don't remember the last time I saw either of them without a bowl or blunt in their mouth, or without Adelis wrapped around Marcello like a straitjacket.

"Hey, Liam knows the way to my place," Marcello chuckles as Adelis and I walk him home after a blunt break. He's toasted, and his loopy strides continually wander farther and farther away from Adelis's tight grip.

My shoulders tense up at Marcello's comment. "Yeah, I guess I do know how to get to your apartment."

Adelis shrieks with laughter. "Oh, right! Remember how Finn is hooking up with your roommate, Marc? Weird!" He looks up at Marcello, then over at me with slitted eyes. Despite the fact that I'm doing nothing wrong, this tiny blonde kid has somehow struck the fear of God into my stoned heart.

Marcello scratches the back of his head. "I don't know if that hook-up situation is still going on."

"I thought you said you saw him at your place the other day," comments Adelis. I turn my eyes to the ground.

"Maybe. Not sure. Probably, I guess, but it could've been– hey, I'm home!" They kiss goodbye. Marcello gives me a long hug, which is cut off by pitchy giggles from Adelis. I'm pretty sure he's only laughing to refrain from driving a dagger into my heart.

We're quiet for the first few minutes of our walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see Adelis open and close his mouth as though he's deciding on the right way to phrase a hostile takedown of my character. Luckily, his text tone interrupts the silence. "Shit," he mumbles. "I forgot I have to drop off to a customer. She lives in Dynash– wanna come?"

I'm too afraid to say no.

As we walk to the dorm, Adelis fills me in. Apparently, he overheard this girl expressing a desire to try Nine during one of his classes and heroically stepped in to provide his number in case she wanted to buy some.

"I'm a perfect salesman," he explains, a sly grin on his face. "You'd have more customers if you did what I do."

"Eavesdrop?" I offer. He scoffs.

Dynash is the newest dorm building on campus as well as the most expensive to live in. From the get-go, I assume the girl will be buying a decent amount of merchandise; surprisingly, she only asks for a few doses.

"Just for me and my boyfriend," the girl– Yuka– explains, motioning to a guy lying on the bed in her dorm. The boyfriend nods in our direction.

Adelis waves back. "Cool, cool. First-timers?"

"I am. He's not."

"I'm sure he–" Adelis glances over at the bed. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Paul," the boyfriend calls out.

"Pleasure to meet you– I'm sure Paul has told plenty of fun stories about Potion Number Nine then, huh?" Adelis says with a chuckle. He's laying his charm on thick.

Yuka smiles. "Yepp. He's done it a lot, and I've wanted to try it, but we didn't think anyone around here was selling."

"Glad to fill the need. Whenever you want it, let me know. Or if you see my buddy around campus, you can let him know too." Adelis as he throws his arm around my shoulders.

"I'm Liam, Adelis's second-in-command," I announce as Yuka laughs and shakes my hand.

Paul wanders over to inspect the pills as Yuka counts out some cash. "Looks pure," he says. I nod, even though I had no idea there was a scale of purity for this kind of thing. "Don't have too many people on campus who have tried this shit, though. Definitely not popular here," Paul surmises.

Yuka sighs. "It sucks. We don't know anyone to do it with except each other."

"Really? How sad! We'd _absolutely_ get kissed with you guys. Right, Liam?" Adelis says, nudging my arm with his elbow.

"Oh, totally," I agree, assuming he's demonstrating his salesman routine. "Anytime you want."

"That would be dope. We're gonna do it this weekend, maybe hit a few parties while we're kissed," says Paul.

"Sweet. I heard the swim team's house is gonna be sick on Saturday. They're doing a blacklight party and they're making tons of jungle juice. You might wanna stop in there," I mention, trying to take a page from Adelis's charismatic playbook.

Yuka claps her hands together. "Oh, awesome. Thanks for the tip!"

"Yeah, much appreciated," says Paul with a smile.

"No problem." I glance over at Adelis for validation; he gives me an approving nod.

Adelis drops the bag in Yuka's palm after she hands him a wad of bills. "Enjoy responsibly, guys." He winks.

As he opens the door, a thought pops into my head. Wanting nothing more than to challenge Adelis's position as a "perfect salesman," I pivot on my heel to put the finishing touch on this transaction. "Just one quick side note," I interject. "I know it's gonna be tempting to chug a whole gallon of jungle juice, but you shouldn't drink a ton of liquor if you're kissed. Take it from me."

Paul raises an eyebrow. "Really? Why's that?"

"Last time I took Nine, I chased it with a lot of tequila, and it didn't end well," I say with a nervous laugh. "But I mean, you probably already know not to do it with alcohol."

Yuka crinkles up her forehead and looks at her boyfriend, who folds his arms over his chest. "You took the whole pill?"

"Well, in two doses. Took them about a half an hour apart, of course, to be safe."

"And you drank some liquor with it and... what, you got sick?"

"Oh, man, sick is an understatement. I felt like I was dying." Paul clenches his jaw. Adelis makes a weird, low humming sound behind me. I'm now very aware of the insurmountable tension that's been building since I started talking, and make the split-second decision to wrap things up. "Uh, but yeah, just be careful–"

"Look, dude," Paul snarls through gritted teeth. My heart drops. "I don't know what kind of bullshit you're slinging, but it sure as fuckin' hell isn't Potion Number Nine." He balls his fingers into fists and glowers menacingly. "Give us a refund and get out."

Adelis's hand shoots past my body, cash wavering in his grip as his arms tremble. "W... wait," I stammer feebly. "Why– what did I–"

Paul leans in close. The heavy exhalations from his nostrils feel like he's trying to breathe fire so he can turn my skin into a pile of ashes. "Liquor doesn't do shit when you're kissed," he growls. Color drains from my cheeks. "Everyone knows that. _Every_ -fuckin'-one." He yanks the bag of pills out of Yuka's grip and slams it against Adelis's chest. Adelis, with a wide-eyed stare and his mouth sewed shut, stumbles backward from the force of the blow. "Nice try though. You can always sell this shit to some dumbass high schoolers who don't know the difference between weed and oregano."

Adelis gulps so loudly, it seems to echo through the room. "Yes-okay-we'll-leave-now-sorry-goodbye," he mutters, then turns on his heel, opens the door, and almost trips as he flings his body down the hallway.

He waits until we get back to his empty dorm room to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize repeatedly, stuck in the awkward position of rubbing his back and handing him tissues as he moans on the floor. "I shouldn't have said that shit. But that guy could have been bullshitting us! Maybe he's actually never had real Nine or something–"

"I don't care! I'm so stupid– fucking _Christ_ , I am so stupid!" Adelis wails as he pushes his palms against his eyes.

"You're not stupid, I'm the one who fucked it up–"

"Oh my fucking God, shut _up_ , Liam!" he cries. "Can you just shut up, for like, one second?! I _just_ said I didn't care, and I don't! I mean, I do care a little, but I'm dumb for so many reasons, not only what just happened, mostly because of–" He peers up at my puzzled expression. The momentary glance prompts him to shout in anguish and hurl the tissue box at Hadds's bed.

"Uh," is all I can murmur.

"Liam, you know why I'm an idiot."

"No, I don't."

"You do."

"If I did, I wouldn't be telling you that I don't."

"Dammit, you _know,_ Liam! It's fucking obvious, right? You know that Marcello doesn't want me, he wants _you_!" He's not crying anymore, just shaking. "I'm nothing more than his way to get to you. You, and your..." There's a pause. He sighs and rubs his forehead. "I get why he wants you. I get it. But my stupid self thinks that maybe... maybe he can learn to love me while he waits for you."

I need to say something comforting. I need to say Adelis is wrong, that Marcello likes him for him, that I have nothing to do with their relationship– but no words leave my throat. Instead, I hold his shoulders and let his snivels fill the silence.

The tears start flowing again. His cries are hushed this time, displaying the most genuine side of Adelis I've ever seen. Though I was frightened of his silence earlier when I thought he wanted to kill me, I'm much more afraid of his sad silence, his quiet sobs, and his vulnerability. I'm scared because I inadvertently caused this. I'm scared because I know I'm the only one to blame.

A dull pain resonates in my gut as I watch the once-solid Adelis collapse in on himself.


	18. Claimed

Adelis LaPelle used to scare the shit out of me. When we first met, his every action was sharp, calculated, and ostentatious. His eyes wrung unsaid information from everyone without consent. He moved with purpose, like his chest was being filled with a constant source of hot air.

Now, he's been deflated.

"I can't sell anymore," he announces through a frown. From my peripherals, I see Hadds roll his eyes. "There's no way I can deal Nine if I don't know if the shit's good, you get me? I still can't believe what happened... oh my God, the experience with that guy was terrible, wasn't it, Liam?"

Adelis looks to me for support, gaze shimmering, as Hadds rolls his eyes again. I'm reminded of the tear-stained spot on my shoulder. I nod.

"He's a different person," Hadds tells me a day later, going on his third consecutive hour of hanging out in my room. "I swear, when I wasn't looking, he snuck away and got a lobotomy."

"I think he's just embarrassed about the shitty Nine deal," I suggest.

"Or he's depressed," says Hadds. I shift in my seat. "Whatever it is, it's annoying as shit."

"Is that why you've been loitering in my room all day?"

Hadds chuckles. "Maybe. Or I just want to keep you company. Finn'll be gone for a while, right?" The smirk on his face reveals the unspoken scheme bubbling underneath. My stomach flips in response.

We drink a couple beers and talk with steadily increasing flirtatiousness until our banter reaches a fever pitch. Unsurprisingly, we decide to sweat it out in bed.

We don't acknowledge that we've barely touched each other since the motel room fiasco; we're grounded in our present intimacy. Personally, my mind refuses to think past the fact that Hadds looks incredibly sexy with his hair sticking to his sweat-stained forehead.

The way he touches me is rushed, almost frantic, and sizzling with desperation. He sinks his teeth into me, marking the skin below my navel with a trail of hickeys. This is the first time he's done something like this. Something in the way he moves displays his intent– he wants to claim me.

Hadds's eyes dart back and forth with the contortions of my face as he rubs me: first through my underwear, then beneath it. As he helps me shimmy out of my clothes, he clears his throat. "Not to seem like I was planning anything," he begins, then nods toward his backpack on the floor. "But I still have the stuff from the motel in my bag."

I grimace. "My tequila?"

"Well, yes. And other things."

"You stole shit from the room, didn't you?"

"No, why would you– I mean, I did, but that's besides the point." He curls his hand around my dick and begins to stroke slowly. My eyes drift to the back of my head. "Now you know?"

"Know... huh?" I ask through my daze.

"Know what I have with me."

"Uh. Besides my penis?"

He sighs. "Condoms. I have condoms."

"Why do we need those?" He raises his eyebrows. "Oh. You– now?" Anxiety sets in. "But you said you didn't want to do it in a dorm."

"Changed my mind."

I prop myself up on my elbows as I attempt to tear my concentration away from a rock-solid erection. "Okay, but why?"

"Reasons," he replies with a shrug.

" _Why_ , Hadds."

"God, Liam, I don't know," he sputters, staring away from my glance. "I guess... maybe... you're just really hot today. Hotter than usual."

"So I'm hot enough for you to throw away your first-time-sex stipulation?"

"Oh, don't get a big head about it."

"Too late."

He fidgets before speaking. "You want to, or...?"

My heart's beating rapidly. As much as I want to attribute this unexpected proposition to my good looks and charm, I know something doesn't fit into the equation.

None of this physicality changes the fact that Hadds came over today to gripe about Adelis. Hadds might think I'm irresistible, but it's only thanks to his roommate's recent vulnerability. I'm more desirable because Adelis has become less so.

I know all of this. I'm aware of my ranking in Hadds's mind. So why does a part of me want to pretend I _don't_ know?

Instead of responding with words, I kiss him with all the fervent energy he pushed into me with his tongue, but I send his urgency back with a tinge of apprehension. He tries to repeat his question, but I can't figure out my answer– God, fuck if I know what I want– so I keep kissing him until he takes off his pants. He only reaches for his backpack after I moan.

"This is what you want, right?" He's perched above me, leaning toward the edge of the bed. "Tell me yes or no, Liam."

Instinctively, I look to the other side of the room. Finn's side. Finn's bed. That stupid poster full of authors and _Tequila Mockingbird._ A tipsy Harper Lee stares me down with a half-lidded gaze. _Now or never,_ her eyes seem to say. Or something like that.

"Yes."

I don't feel the word leave my mouth. Hadds grins. He pushes a stray hair out of his face and shuffles through his backpack while my breaths become shallow and brief. As he tears at the top of a condom wrapper, I strain my ears and try to think of how the _yes_ sounded when it left my mouth– was it strong, was it murmured like a reflex, or did I just spit it out before my mind could change–

"Where the _fuck_ is my key?"

I nearly fall out of bed at the sound of Finn's muffled voice filtering in from the other side of the door. Hadds, face flushing, shoves the torn-open condom under my pillow and rapidly unhooks his legs from mine. I struggle to pull my underwear up from my ankles, thoughts racing about how I can hide my boner _and_ retrieve my pants which are snuggled between the mattress and the wall. It's gonna have to be one or the other, and the jiggling door handle indicates I don't have the luxury of making a decision.

Godsend that he is, Hadds snatches up a blanket that's hanging off the bedpost and throws it over my goods before Finn steps foot in the room. _Crisis averted_ , I'm thinking, except for the fact that my erect dick is forming a small mountain under the blanket and Hadds remains uncomfortably close to my sprawled out body.

Finn, however, is oblivious. He throws his bag on his desk, spits a piece of gum into the trash, and takes headphones out of his ears before so much as glancing at my side of the room.

I rise into a sitting position and fold my hands in front of Mount Boner. Hadds waves awkwardly as Finn narrows his eyes. "So, which one of you broke Adelis?"

"Broke? What do you mean?" Hadds says, sighing in relief beneath the question.

"I saw him going to Marcello's. He was a mess, like, he didn't even smirk devilishly at me. Hence, he's broken."

"No, he's not. He's just being a crybaby about that deal the other day," I explain.

Hadds tilts his head to the side. "How did you know he was heading to Marcello's? That's kind of far from campus."

Finn curls his lips into his teeth, shrugs, and turns back to his desk. "I happened to be at Marcello's place when Adelis walked in."

Oh, perfect, there's the boner-killer I need.

Hadds chuckles. "Marcello's place, huh? I think you mean you were in Sarita's bedroom."

"Whaaatever." Finn fishes around his fridge and emerges with a Blue Moon.

"Seriously, dude, what's the deal with you and that girl? I thought you guys were done forever ago." I'm one question away from shutting Hadds up by thrusting the half-open condom down his throat.

"Yeah, but–"

"But you're hooking up again," Hadds says flatly.

"Well–"

"So you're not done."

"No, but–"

"Sounds like you kind of want to date her." There's a determined glint in Hadds's eye as he pushes the conversation to a boiling point. "Do you?"

Finn groans loudly. "I don't know. She's sexy and kind of cool... but sometimes _not_ cool, y'know?"

"I get you. You're in it for the physical stuff." Finn's turning red and Hadds is loving every second of it. "Must be some good-ass sex."

"It's fine," Finn mumbles, then changes the subject.

Hadds spends the day in our room. It takes about two hours before I can look at him without wanting to punch his teeth into his throat. When he leaves, he asks me to walk him out.

We idle at the front door of Silverton. "Don't forget the slimy piece of latex under your pillow," he tells me.

"Fuck, I didn't remember it was there." I pause. "I should, uh, throw that out, right...?"

"Might be a wise choice."

"Gotcha." I turn to leave, but he clears his throat.

"Today wasn't the right day," he surmises.

"Yeah. It would've probably been a little uncomfortable with Finn in the room," I joke.

"Shut up. You know what I mean." He takes a step closer and lowers his voice. "Spring break."

I blink. "What–"

"Spring break. No drugs, no interruptions. No roommates." He's grinning. "Get what I'm saying? It's the perfect set-up. We can finally finish what we started."

For a second, he looks at my lips like he's going to go in for a kiss. He doesn't. Instead, he pulls away from me and waves as he pushes through the front door. I'm left standing in the lobby, frozen in place, watching him leave.

While Finn takes a shower, I throw out the condom and stifle jealous cries with my pillow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want a little extra content to go along with the story, Liam and Finn are now on Instagram!
> 
> Liam's username: l.4coaster
> 
> Finn's username: mother_effinn_wintercroft
> 
> Check them out for periodic updates/insights into their characters! (Hadds and Adelis will probably be on soon as well)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!


	19. Spring Break, Part One

 

 

 

"Adelis seems to be doing better."

Finn leans over in his seat and flashes a picture of Adelis, beaming as he clings onto Marcello's waist at Key West. "Good for him." I'm trying to sound convincing.

"He posted it a couple hours ago," says Finn. "Yesterday he didn't seem all too smiley, though– hey, can you pass me the good stuff?"

We're sharing a water bottle full of vodka on the train to his hometown. Finn says it'll take seven hours, at the least, to arrive. I don't mind as long as I'm somewhere between buzzed and drunk and unable to figure out how long trees have been zooming past the windows.

"I just got a Snapchat from Hadds," Finn announces as a notification pops up on my phone.

"Me too. Wonder what it's like in paradise today."

The picture consists of Hadds's outstretched legs on a lounge chair beside a pool. On a nearby table sits a bright red, undoubtedly alcoholic drink.

"I hate him," grumbles Finn. "Let's respond with a rage-filled snap of us, like, shaking our fists or flipping him off– oh, hey, he sent another." He points at my phone.

This one's a selfie. Red skin peeks out from beneath huge sunglasses, and half a smirk adorns his lips. The sun catches on his collarbones and casts perfectly-angled shadows on his chest. The caption reads, _excited for break?_

Finn glances down at his phone, pouting. "I didn't get that picture."

Blood rushes to my cheeks. I decide against replying.

•

Despite only meeting them once, I'm greeted by Finn's mom and stepdad like an old friend. They take turns hugging Finn, then me, then hand us bagels that they bought at "the best bagel place on the island, no exaggeration." I'm still regaining consciousness from the two-hour drunk nap I took on the train, but the rumbling of my stomach tells me that the food is much appreciated.

We drive on winding road after winding road. Finn's mom, Vera, points out each winery and architectural oddity. Finn's stepdad, Patrick, holds her hand and makes her laugh. I find myself smiling at all of his corny jokes. Their happiness is infectious.

We pass a beach, a couple mansions, then turn on a curvaceous, tree-lined road. When I catch a glimpse of the huge house at the end, I realize we were pulling into a driveway the whole time. My eyes widen at the sight of their house; its facade is rustic and well-kept, boasting multiple balconies on the second floor above the flower-filled yard. Huge windows reveal an ornate chandelier hanging in the foyer.

"This is _your_ house?" I whisper to Finn as I pull my duffel bag out of the trunk.

He sighs. "It's not actually big. It just looks like it is from the outside." I'm unsure of his frame of reference. To me, the place is a self-contained jungle.

Pieces start to fit together as I stare at framed family photos and portraits lining the halls. I understand more and more as we all chat over dinner and Patrick caresses his wife's hand while they ask about my parents. This is Finn. I never thought about it, but a house like this, family like Vera and Patrick– it all seeps into Finn's personality. He coasts, he's always coasted. But somehow, he's that much better for it.

Finn's room smells like an old friend with a hint of something sweet. There's clothes collected in hampers that sit on his bed. Ticket stubs from all sorts of events are tacked around his door frame, and a few movie posters– _The Hangover, Shaun of the Dead, Garden State–_ are haphazardly hanging on the walls.

"Sorry that my family's weird," Finn says, nodding toward the door. He sits on the corner of his bed that's not occupied by a hamper.

"No, they're not. They're super nice," I assure him. "How'd they meet?"

"They used to date in college, way before my mom met my dad. They reconnected after my dad died." My jaw unhinges reflexively, unable to find words to reconcile the conversation after he dropped that bomb. He notices my shock and laughs softly. "Shit, I didn't tell you, did I?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Dude, I was five when it happened. I've had years of teen angst to dig up the past and get the fuck over it." He leans his head on the wall as his smile fades. "Dad was sick for a while, anyway. I bet he was kind of relieved when he finally went."

"Oh. Yeah." I look down at my feet.

There's a moment's pause before he slaps his hands on his thighs and straightens his back. "Well, moving on from _that_ lovely conversation." He tips his hamper over. Two Four Lokos and half a bottle of wine roll out from beneath his clothes. "Wanna get drunk on the beach?"

•

Using the light of our phone screens, we build rock-lined towers out of sand until we're too drunk to do anything except continually dig our hands into the earth. We lie together on the beach, the skin of our lower arms connecting, as we trawl through social media and wait for our vision to stop doing somersaults. "Does Marcello, I don't know, ever wear a shirt?" Finn's grimacing at a picture of Adelis. He's lying on a towel as Marcello– topless and unapologetically hairy– assembles a beach umbrella.

"Probably not." An image of Marcello's bedroom flashes in my mind. "Oh, God, I think I still have his shirt. What if it's his only one?" The sentence slides out of my mouth easily, undoubtedly lubricated by a fair amount of alcohol. I'm unsure if I even said it out loud until Finn laughs.

"You no-good, dirty, shirt-stealing fucker."

Everything turns warm, too warm, despite the chill in the wind. "I didn't mean to do it, he just barfed on the shirt I was wearing." I move my arm away from Finn's.

"He barfed on you?"

"No, no, he just– my shirt was on the floor, he missed the trash, it was–"

Finn's cackling drowns me out. "Dammit, dude. Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I don't know," I mutter. "Last time I talked about it, you left the room."

He pauses. "I was so overly high that day. Being super stoned made me really sad about the whole thing."

"Sad?"

"Yeah." He stares up at the sky. "You never told me you were gay."

The warmth intensifies tenfold, burning in my head, accompanied by a wave of nausea. "I'm not," I protest in a strained murmur, trying to keep myself together and my words precise. "It's not like that."

Finn squints. "Sorry. Are you bi?"

"I'm–"

"'Cause, like, at the beginning of the year, we played that game of Never Have I Ever, remember that? And you said you never made out with a guy. Or whatever." His eyes are darting around like he can't keep his sight together. He's nervous, he's drunk, he's wanted to bring this up for a while, and now it's all mixing together. I can see it.

"Finn," I say. "I don't know what the fuck I am."

"That's fine, I just– I just like to be informed about this shit, 'cause I'm your friend, y'know? One of your best friends, I hope," he tells me. Then he chuckles. "Who the fuck knows what they really _are_ , anyway? Hell, I..."

I watch the corners of Finn's mouth quiver as he gains the courage to speak again. When the sound finally escapes, it's nothing but a breath. The syllables escape into the air, drown in the sound of waves crashing on the shore, and bubble away with the frothy tips of the water. I read his lips, I trace the words, and I lose my heartbeat in what he might have said. I can't tell for sure, but there's a chance I know what he tried to vocalize.

"What was that?" I ask out of desperation. He remains silent. "What did you say, Finn? You can tell me. What was it?"

I start to ask again, but when he closes his eyes, it's clear he didn't mean to speak at all.

•

Everything's spinning as we walk home in erratic steps, arms on each other's shoulders for support, laughing about something that happened during our first week at school. We finished our Lokos on the beach, so the wine supplements our trek back. I puke on the side of an unlit road to avoid soiling the Wintercrofts' immaculate bathroom. When I'm done, Finn throws up in the same spot. He beams as he wipes bile off his lips with the back of his hand.

Moments after arriving in his room, he collapses in bed. I start to clear a space on the floor for myself. "Got a sleeping bag I can use?" I ask.

"Duuude," Finn draws out. "I'm too lazy to find that shit. Just sleep with me."

My cloudy mind considers saying something cheeky, like _if only it were that easy_. "Uh," comes out instead.

"The bed's big enough for both of us. Well, until my massive morning wood pushes you off the edge..." He guffaws at his joke while I freeze in place, petrified at the thought.

"We're waking up at ten and going to the diner for breakfast," Finn announces as he sets an alarm. I peer up at him from my pillow, which is placed on the opposite end of the bed and a sizable distance away from his feet.

"Good luck waking me up that early," I murmur.

"Good luck trying to sleep through me jumping on your stomach," he retorts, then turns off the light.

My phone vibrates incessantly a half an hour after we go to bed, forcing me to check my messages. They're all Snapchats from Hadds. Every photo is taken in a dark room with captions splayed over the blackness.

_Hey what's up? You awake?_

_I'm pretty drunk right now haha_

_I'm kind of horny too... sorry if that's tmi_

_I'm thinking about you_

_I wish you were here right now_

I consider not responding. I take into account my level of intoxication (seven and a half out of ten on the "fucked up" scale). But despite how I attempt to talk myself out of it, I can't resist satisfying my curiosity. I ask what he wants, andhe replies in less than a minute.

_I'm not gonna lie. I wanna jack off with you_

The statement pierces through the blackness of the screen, screaming at me for a full ten seconds until it fades away, though the words reverberate in my mind. I lay my phone on my chest and close my eyes.

Feasibly, I could go to the bathroom to do it. Finn probably won't notice if I leave. No one's awake in the house. There's no reason not to do it.

Slowly lifting my head, I check on Finn. In the red-tinted light streaming from his alarm clock, I see the outline of his face: pressed up against the pillow like a bug smushed against a car windshield.

_You still there?_

Finn's dead asleep. I can sneak out easily. No reason not to do it.

_Hello?_

Except, maybe, if I don't want to.

I fall asleep trying to figure out how to respond.

We wake up at ten AM sharp to the sound of a screeching alarm, my phone still on my chest. Finn lazily throws his arm off the bed to hit the snooze, and we sleep until one in the afternoon. Flashes of Hadds, smirking and seductive, infiltrate my dreams. He's hard to escape.


	20. Washed Up

"Aren't these pancakes spectacularly mediocre?"

Finn's grinning like a newlywed, a bottle of maple syrup in his grip. I offer a sour smile. "Couldn't have phrased it better myself."

It's almost three in the afternoon, but Finn and I– by some miracle– dragged our hungover asses out of bed and to the local diner. Finn is almost too excited to show me the booth that he covered in vomit after a night of post-prom binge drinking.

"So we need more stuff, don't we?" he asks after shoving a fork-full of chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth. "We drank all the vodka on the train, we finished the Lokos that I'd been saving for a special occasion, and we ditched that bottle of wine on the way home... wish I could remember where..."

The mere thought of drinking is making food turn to lead in my stomach. I put my fork down and rub my temples. "God, Finn. How are you already thinking of alcohol again?"

"I've got my priorities in line," he tells me, then proceeds to drown his breakfast in another layer of maple syrup.

After eating, we pick out a few drinks at a nearby gas station. Finn hands me the ID and walks outside while I put our items on the counter. I've barely set a six pack down before the woman at the register asks for my ID. Or, rather, demands it.

"W– what?" The question leaves my mouth like a reflex. God, I _know_ what she said, her tone just made me nervous.

She stares me down from the rim of her glasses, frowns, then repeats her request. "ID, please." Her voice is dripping with disdain.

I place it on the counter and use one finger to daintily slide it toward her. She snatches up the piece of plastic with her manicured claws, studies it, then turns her glance back to me. Feeling like Satan himself is figuring out whether or not to claim me as his own, I'm unsure how to react. Should I look bored? Annoyed? Maybe smile just to be cheeky?

"I can't accept this."

Oh, shit. "Wh– why not?"

She gives the ID one last look. "Hon, this isn't real."

"Yes, it is." I try to sound as Stefan Evans-y as possible, though I'm not sure what kind of voice would come out of someone beefier than I.

It doesn't faze her. "Look, there's a few differences between this and a real New Jersey ID." She sets it down on her register. My thoughts start racing.

She's going to do it, isn't she? She's going to call the cops on me, and that's it, I'm done. Goodbye, clean record. This is going to get Finn in trouble too somehow, and Vera and Patrick will be so disappointed in him– oh, no, they're going to be disappointed in _me_ , too– holy fuck, this is _not_ how I want spring break to go–

"Hold on, please." She reaches under the counter for something. The phone. It must be the phone. She's actually going to call the cops.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

Before my mind can put in its two cents, my legs take off at warp speed. I blast out the door and blow past Finn, who's sitting on the sidewalk. As soon as I'm halfway down the street, I realize he's running two steps behind, no questions asked.

"Over here!" he exclaims, waving me down a side street. I obey, dodging cracks in the pavement and a couple small children on bikes, and blindly follow Finn through a wooden gate and into someone's backyard. He crouches behind a hedge and I huddle beside him, breath attempting a comeback until Finn finds the strength to talk first.

"What... the... _hell_... happened?"

"It's gone, Finn!" I whine. "The ID! It turns out it's a fake, like, not just our fake, but apparently it's 'Stefan Evans's' fake too–"

"So you just tore the fuck out of the gas station?" Finn's eyes expand to fit equal amounts of shock and awe.

"I..." Yeah, that's exactly what I did. "No, I didn't... it's not like I had much of a choice!" Finn's cracking up. "Hey! I'm still terrified over here, I'd appreciate support instead of laughter, thank you very much–"

"Finnean?"

The voice comes from the other side of the hedges. Finn looks horrified.

"Finnean Wintercroft? Is that you?"

He mumbles something indistinguishable, then slowly raises his head above the hedges. "Maris Conroy," he says. "Funny story about why we're here."

Finn gestures at me to stand up. The girl has a few tufts of blonde hair sticking out of her bright blue beanie, which coincidentally matches the glass bong she's smoking. She smirks and adjusts her glasses. "Tell me about it, Finnean."

Maris invites us onto the porch. Finn spits out the story as I chime in with key details, all the while eyeing up her piece as remnants of smoke drift out of the bowl. As we speak, she looks like she's about to fall asleep, but her amused smile never fades.

"Crazy shit. You're a crazy dude," is all she says in response.

Finn shrugs. "A blessing and a curse."

"You still smoke?" She offers her bong to him.

"I'm perpetually a fan of the ganj." He takes a hit, and she grabs it back. I notice she doesn't offer anything to me.

"So, why didn't you tell me you were back in town?"

Finn puts his hand on my shoulder. "Maris, this is my steadfast friend and roommate, Liam." She suddenly sits at attention, like the sound of my name rescued her from the brink of sleep. "I roped off the first few days of break so I could show him the sights of our washed-up little town."

"Yeah, but it's no fun here without drugs and alcohol," she comments.

"Hence our gas station fiasco." Finn nods at me. I want to say something witty or enticing, but I feel intimidated by this girl.

"Fucked up." I watch expression change shape as a thought pops into her head. "Yo Finnean, if you're out of alcohol, you should come to my party tomorrow. Lars and Forrest are bringing a shit-load of drinks. Just throw down some money and they'll pick up anything you want."

"Lars and Forrest, huh? They'd get me anything?" Finn asks.

"For you? Damn, I bet they'd buy up the whole fuckin' liquor store." Maris reaches into her pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. "Shit. You haven't been around since last year, after all."

"January, actually."

She snaps her fingers. "January. Right. That's when..." A sly smile reappears on her face. "That's when you fucked Ava in my sister's room. Goddamn!"

Finn receives a playful punch on his upper arm. His forced grin reeks of discomfort. "Uh, will she– Ava– will she be there tomorrow?"

"You want her to be?" She sticks a cig in her mouth. He doesn't reply. "Nah, kidding. I don't know, she hasn't said shit yet. She works all the time now, y'know."

Finn declines a hit for the road. As soon as we exit through the garden gate, I question his choice of hiding place.

"I figured Maris wouldn't mind if we leapt in her bushes. She's always thought I'm the coolest person to ever exist," he explains.

"You? Are you sure she didn't make a mistake?"

"You're hilarious," he deadpans. "I usually only see her when she throws parties. It's great for us, considering we have no other options for getting drunk."

"So you still want to go to this party?" I inquire. "Even if Ava is there, I mean."

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't particularly _want_ to go, but I think it'll be fun if you're there." He smiles as I try to push away thoughts about the inside of Maris's sister's room.

We spend the rest of the day on the beach, smoking a bowl under the cover of an umbrella. When the high wears off, we pop Nines and go for a swim. I stare at Finn, and he stares at me, and we laugh every so often, but we don't say much. The waves consume the hush between us. I swim until my fingers and toes are wrinkled.

He uses a towel to dry his hair and I put on headphones. A song comes on that I remember, but I can't name. It starts out low and slow with a haunting tune that echoes in the deepest parts of my intoxicated brain and engulfs the scene before my eyes.

Sunlight glistens on Finn's damp skin. I watch, mesmerized, as his shoulder blades pulsate with each movement of his arms. Strands of hair peek out from beneath the towel as he rubs his head, massaging his scalp, soaking up ocean water from our swim. My gaze and thoughts are transfixed on the way he goes through the motions, the subtle changes in his movements, the ebb and flow of confidence versus vulnerability within him.

The music swells in time with Finn's actions, reaching its climax as he sits and rolls his eyes over to me, sun-kissed cheeks curving to accommodate a crooked grin. His lips effortlessly curl around words as though he means to harmonize with the melody of my nameless song.

The moment disintegrates as I take off my headphones. "Huh?"

He chuckles softly. As he lies down on the towel, his eyelids shut. "I said, 'you look happy.'"

"I am happy," is my response. I think I mean it.

•

There's nothing keeping us apart. Nothing says I can't just lean over and kiss him.

We're sitting on his bed, riding out the end of our rendezvous with Nine, watching re-runs of old cartoons on TV. Moonlight streams through the space between the curtain and the window. He's slouched against his headboard clutching a pillow to his chest, and I'm sitting against the wall with my legs over his ankles. Each inch of air between us causes my body to ache.

Ever since I took the pill on the beach, I've been craving him, everything about him. If I was just an ounce more high, maybe I'd have the courage to close the small expanse between us. I should take the rest of our Nine.

I ask how many pills we have left. He shrugs. "You can check if you want." He nods toward the canvas bag we took to the beach. I get on my hands and knees and rummage through it until I find the Nine, secured in an old glasses case and bundled up in plastic wrap. There's a pill and a half left. My eyes dart to Finn, whose gaze is glued to the TV screen.

If I down a half– maybe even a fourth– I could take action, any action to move us forward. Maybe start with a question, just to see if he remembers when he kickstarted my craving. If he does, then I could...

Vibration from the bottom of the bag makes me jump. "Oh, shit, I totally left my phone in there," says Finn, leaning off the side of the bed. "You mind?"

"Got it."

The moment the phone is in my hand, though, a familiar name on the screen makes my heart drop. Sarita. She's requesting a video chat.

Finn, who's looking over my shoulder, shoots his hand out and grabs the phone before I can form a question. "Sorry, I gotta take this," he mumbles with embarrassment and a tinge of shame.

I swallow as he rises to his feet. "Go ahead," I manage to spit out. He closes the bedroom door tightly. God, I wish he didn't leave. I feel lost without him near me.

No, no, it's more than that; the emotion is transforming with every passing second. Now I'm upset. Irritated. Mourning. Empty. How could he do that? How, when he doesn't even like her? He's giving his attention to the wrong person, and I think he fucking _knows_... unless I'm crazy, so I must be crazy, I know I'm crazy and I don't know how to help it– fuck, how long is he going to be gone–

I crawl into bed and open Snapchat. I send Hadds a message, posing a question. He replies shortly after with a one-word answer.


	21. Finnean's Roommate

In the middle of the night when Finn is asleep, I sneak out of the room and lock the bathroom door behind me.

_I'll call you from my laptop in a second, gotta wait for my mom to leave_

_Don't fall asleep on me :p_

Sitting on the shower mat with my back against the wall, I press my phone between my palms and breathe deeply until it vibrates.

"Hello there," Hadds mumbles through his teeth. He sounds drunk and worn at the edges. I'm borderline disgusted by his voice.

"Hi. You seem tired," I say, watching my volume.

"A little. Could use some help getting to sleep."

"Wow, Hadds. You're ready to get down to it, huh?" I realize my heart is racing. "No lead-up? Not even gonna say, 'hi Liam, what are you doing?'"

"Hey, now. You didn't ask me about my life either," he retorts.

"Sorry. How's drinking with your family every night?" I quip.

"It would be a hell of a lot better if you were around to take the edge off."

"You flatter me."

"Only 'cause I'm a little tipsy."

"Right." We're both quiet. "So, uh, how do you start one of these conversations...?" If he still finds me sexy after this bland banter, it'll be a goddamn miracle.

"Well, I can tell you what I've been thinking about recently."

"Alright."

"I've been thinking about seeing you again. What we're going to do. How I'm going to fuck you."

"I've been thinking about that, too." Not completely a lie. It's been in the back of my mind, laced with anxiety.

"Excited about it, huh?" I hear him shifting around in the background. Is he taking off his pants? Should I be taking off my pants, too? At what point is it advisable to sustain an erection? I should've done some research.

"I g... Yeah, I am."

"Tell me why."

"Uhm." Good start. "I'm excited for you to– to take off my clothes." Should I do it now...? Fuck it. I begin to shimmy out of my pajama pants as quietly as possible. "I can't wait for you to drive me crazy."

"I'd take off your shirt first, then rub you through your pants until your dick is throbbing. Until it's begging for me." I'm unbelievably thankful that he's taking control of this situation, because I have no idea how to proceed. "I'll tease you first, though. Can't let you have it that easily." His tone is low, almost crackling.

"How'll you do that?" I slip my hand under my boxers.

"I'll keep rubbing you faster and sucking on your neck, even when you're whimpering for me to fuck you, and only stop when you're about to cum. I'll keep you hanging and take off your pants, then press my lips to your dick while it's still covered by your underwear." I'm suddenly aware that I've been stroking myself to the rhythm of his imaginary actions. "I want to rub your chest while I'm pulling down your boxers. I'll taunt your nipples with my fingertips while I get on top of you and grind against your exposed dick, starting off slow, then speeding up until you can't help but moan..."

"Mhmm." The hum escapes on its own.

"Just like that." He's talking through a smirk. "Just like that, Liam." The sound of my name being growled almost puts me over the edge. I cease movement and choke on my next breath.

It started as a purely reactionary, vengeful thing to do, but Hadds may have converted me to his dark side. His wet, warm voice pushes my mind to fully imagine us together: feeling each other, experiencing him inside of me, every thrust, every gyration. It's tantalizing. My pupils roll back and forth under my eyelids, following the pulse of his words, the tempo of our nonexistent fornication. I almost forget that I'm sprawled out on the floor of Finn's bathroom– almost, until I'm a fraction of a second away from finishing all over the Wintercrofts' ornately tiled floor.

Apparently, Hadds realizes the situation I'm in. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you, Liam?" he says, hopefully unable to hear my desperation to pluck a wad of toilet paper off the roll. "Listen to me. You're going cum when I tell you to," he commands, voice suddenly stern and unforgiving.

For fuck's sake. I'm two seconds from blowing my top. "Okay," I mutter shakily.

"Imagine I'm caressing the tip of your dick with my tongue, then torturing you as I lick the sides slowly, up and down."

My mind jumps to the first time he blew me in his room. An overwhelming surge of heat explodes in my veins. Oh, my God, I can't take it anymore.

"Hadds, I'm gonna–"

"Not yet," he snarls. I gasp for air. "I put you fully in my mouth and massage your balls as I suck you off, faster and faster, covering your dick with my saliva, making you feel so good, making you feel like you're going to burst..."

" _Hadds_."

"I want you to cum for me, Liam, cum so hard–"

"Oh fuck _,_ _God_ –"

I lose hearing as my entire body shakes with the intensity of my ejaculation. I regain auditory function just in time to hear the tail end of Hadds's moans. I blink rapidly in an attempt to absorb the realization of what I– we– just did.

"You're not bad at that," he tells me before we hang up.

"You think?"

"Yeah, well, you'll get better the more we fuck in real life." I can practically see the sly grin on his face. "Goodnight, Liam."

"See you soon, Hadds."

With shaking hands, I clean myself up. I avoid making eye contact with the family photos in the hallway. I crawl back into bed beside Finn, experiencing both incredible shame and undeniable relief. It's not that I particularly want to leave Finn's; it's just that now, I want to see Hadds more than anything.

•

"Kelly steals shit all the time, don't trust her for a second. Alexander is nice, but he'll just talk about his ex within five minutes of starting a conversation. Cameron fucks anything with a vagina and sucks at pong. Maris is gay as hell and gets super chatty when she's drunk. Lars and Forrest are as bro as bro can get. Ava is, well, self-explanatory. And, uh, Felicity..." I squint to jog my memory. "Felicity... has herpes?"

"Close. Gonorrhea. Otherwise, you're spot on," Finn commends me. He wiggles the bowl in front of my face. "A gift for the straight-A student."

I chuckle before taking a hit. "So, what I've learned from that summary is that you don't like anyone who we might see tonight."

"I don't particularly enjoy the people who frequent Maris's parties, no. But who knows, maybe they've all changed since winter break." The look on his face displays a lack of optimism.

He lends me a black button-up embroidered with tiny orange and blue fireworks. As we walk to Maris's, I take note of Finn's quietness. I figured he'd be bubbling with gossip and stories to prepare me for the party, but instead, all he offers is an increasingly concerned expression.

There's more people at Maris's house than Finn insinuated. A game of pong is culminating in the dining room and a mess of bongs and beer clutters the living room table. Music blasts from the TV, but the volume rests comfortably below the amount of chatter in the room.

"Finnean's here!" yells a brawny dude in a snapback as we cross the threshold. He and a similar-looking friend run to the door to greet us. According to Finn's description of potential party-goers, this must be Lars and Forrest. "Bro" only scratches the tip of the iceberg.

Immediately, they push a can of Bud and a key into Finn's hands, begging him to shotgun so he can "catch up with everyone else." He drains the can on the doorstep as the whole party pauses to watch and cheer. It's hard to look away as he hypnotizes the room with his mere presence. I wonder what it's like to have that ability.

"This is Liam, my best friend slash roommate," he tells Lars and Forrest as we grab beer from the fridge.

"Liam?" Lars asks, his eyes growing wide like he thought I was dead or something.

"Uh, yeah," I confirm.

"Nice to meet you, Liam," Forrest says in an all-too-saccharine tone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him elbow Lars in the gut. "We should play some icebreaker games, yeah? How about Never Have I Ever? Or Hot Seat? Or–"

"Yo, give us a sec to get settled in. Then we'll play games, I swear," Finn promises. "Hey, by the way– uh, is Ava here?"

Forrest and Lars exchange looks. Lars bites his lip, probably to keep from cracking a smile. "Don't think she's coming," he says.

"In more ways than one, right, Finnean?" Forrest jokes, nudging Finn with his arm.

Finn laughs uncomfortably, then politely excuses himself from the conversation. We end up sitting next to Alexander on a couch in the living room. As predicted, he takes less than five minutes to launch into a list of complaints about his ex. Finn unflinchingly acts as a shoulder to cry on, though I assume he's just relieved to not be at risk of hearing any more Ava-related jokes.

Catching myself dazing off through this guy's sad monologue, I decide to get another beer. When I come back to the couch, Finn and Alexander are nowhere to be found; instead, Maris has taken my spot and is currently pouring bottom-shelf rum into a plastic cup. I start to turn away, but she waves when she notices me. "Finnean's roommate! C'mere! Do a shot with me, man!"

Reluctantly, I toss back the rum and stifle a cringe. Maris, however, seems to be unaffected by the alcohol's bite. "Thanks," I lie.

She gives me a thumbs up. "No problem. Hey, where's the dude at? Finnean, I mean?"

"He was talking to Alexander on this couch, then I went to get a beer, and when I got back they were nowhere to be found."

"Shit. Xander's probably crying to him in the bathroom, I wouldn't worry about it. Wanna do another shot?"

"Oh, I don't–" Too late. She's already pouring it. It's even worse the second time around.

"Hey, Mar, why don't you ever give me a shot?" Forrest whines as he passes by.

"'Cause you never give me shots of your stuff!" she protests, playfully slapping his arm as he snickers. "Plus, Liam's ten times cuter than you'll ever be."

Forrest groans. "Jesus, why does _everyone_ think he's cute? No offense, Liam."

"None taken... wait, who's everyone?" Forrest just laughs, shakes his head, and walks away. I turn to Maris, face reddening by the second. "Was that an inside joke or something?"

"No, it's– well– fuckin' Forrest." She sighs. "Take a shot with me, then we'll talk." I get it down with some difficulty. She speaks while I try to rid my tongue of the taste of liquid death. "Forrest never stops talking about other people. It's like he needs to spread shit around to keep his heart pumping, get me? Anyway, he's best friends with my ex, Lars. He's the guy in the Jeter tool top and the Syracuse snapback." She gestures toward Lars, who's missing a cup in pong.

"You two dated?" I ask in disbelief.

"I thought I was straight for point two seconds of my life, okay? Fuckin' sue me." She shrugs, her gaze pointed in Lars's direction. "He's a dick, in case you couldn't tell. This one time, man, it was some dumb shit–" She launches into a story from high school as I zone out. I recognize that she's gone into "drunk and chatty" mode, thus totally forgetting about Forrest's strange comment.

A hand– Finn's, thankfully– grabs my shoulder. "Dude, I am _so_ sorry." Maris shoves a shot into his grip. He downs it before continuing. "Alexander was a fucking wreck, I guess he found out that girl was cheating on him the whole time– god _damn_ , Maris, that is some rank rum."

"Says you! Liam has been loving it," she erroneously claims.

"He's always had questionable taste," Finn says with a smirk.

The party could be worse. It's not a riotous good time, but after a few rounds of flip cup, people get chummier and the music gets louder. Forrest and Lars challenge Finn to a game of beer pong, and Finn immediately claims me as his partner. We're doing pretty well until the front door opens and I watch all of his drive dissipate.

Ava looks more muscular. She's wearing an orange flat brim hat, an accessory that never graced her head during her time with Finn. I notice Lars's stare lingers on her as she hugs someone. Finn's shot completely misses the cup and hits Lars's shoulder. "Sorry," Finn mutters.

"It's fine," says Lars as he watches Ava wander into the kitchen. "'Scuse me."

Forrest gives Lars a couple quick pats on the back. When he turns to face the table, Finn is staring him straight in the eyes.

"Anything you wanna tell me, Forrest?" Finn inquires in a tone so cold it could turn the Sahara into a ski resort.

Forrest shrugs. "Not really. Hey, why don't we call the game? You guys are clearly winning. We'll rematch later. Maybe." He gives a wave and walks toward the kitchen. Finn's face is devoid of color.

"You okay?" I ask.

He slicks his hair back with his hands. "I'm fine. Just have the sudden desire to get a lot more fucked up. Where's Maris's shitty rum?"

Maris is slumped over in an armchair, a loopy grin plastered on her face. She wiggles the almost-empty bottle in Finn's face, and he drains it.

"I have another one in my room. Under my bed. I'm too fuckin' fucked to get up right now, though. Go fetch, Finnean!" giggles Maris. When he walks away, she turns to me. "You're a lucky bastard, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

She tilts the empty bottle in Finn's direction. "If I was straight, I'd be all over Finnean. Ten outta ten. Don't let that fucker go."

"Oh, no, it's not..." I shake my head vigorously. "We're not together like that."

Maris crinkles her forehead. "Really? Forrest said... well, Lars told Forrest 'cause Ava told Lars, and she tells Lars everything now, then Forrest told everyone else that you and Finn hooked up."

Alcohol courses through my body in time with rampant unease, throwing reality out of focus as my cheeks burn white-hot. This girl said all of that so easily, like she expects me to laugh it off and be fine, like I'm not going to be paranoid and anxious for the rest of the night because everyone knows that Finn and I... oh, God, they all know about the sole thing that we've done such a good job of ignoring for the sake of our friendship– _everyone knows–_

As Maris talks at me, her speech filled with "my bad"s and "Forrest is such a dick"s, I can't listen because I'm too wracked with a sensation of defenselessness. My gaze latches onto Finn leaving Maris's room with a bottle, then I see Ava approach him with a comment slipping off her tongue, and then my breathing becomes shallow. I count two sentences before Ava turns on her heel and marches in the opposite direction.

Finn's complexion is transparent as he sits beside me. I think Maris is still talking, but I can't be bothered to decipher anything she's saying. "Ava wants to talk to me... in Maris's sister's room... _alone_."

I consider excusing myself to the bathroom so I can spew anxiety from every orifice. "Why?" I muster.

"I don't know, I don't fucking know–" He unscrews the cap from the bottle and takes a swig. The aftertaste makes his face pucker. "Liam, oh my God, Liam. You gotta come with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"No, no, listen." He grips my shoulders lightly. "I'll admit it: I'm drunk. I'm unpredictable. But I can't make the same mistake I made in January, I just can't. If you're there, hiding out under the bed or some shit, I know I won't."

I blink. "But what if you, y'know... _do_ do it, and then I'm in the room while–"

"I wouldn't do that to you!" He looks offended. "Please, Liam, you're my best friend, my best friend in the whole world, and I need you to make sure I don't fuck my ex again." His gaze shimmers with desperation.

Maybe I'm the biggest idiot in the world, or the hugest sap on the planet, or just willing to follow Finn to the end of the earth, but five minutes later I'm talking to him through the slats in a closet door.


	22. Closure

"I swear to God," I whisper sternly, "if you guys hook up, I am going to bust out of here and puke all over your face."

"Good. I'll deserve it," says Finn. "Now shush, closet-boy, she'll be here any second. Also, thank you."

Finn sits on the bed and folds his hands like a patient child. During the subsequent silence, I wonder if I should disclose the information Maris told me. I know I won't do it– I've never had the fucking nerve to start that conversation, might as well keep the streak going– but it's hard to contain the sensation of near-combustion in my head.

The door creaks open, then is promptly shut tight and locked. I slowly sink into the corner of the closet. "Hi," Finn says, somehow showing apprehension in a single syllable.

"Hi, Finn. I'm sorry to pull you away like this, I really am." Ava's voice is teetering on the fine line between rigid and sympathetic. "I just think we owe it to ourselves to be honest with each other after all we've been through. Especially since the last time we were in this room together." I'm already preparing to cover my ears and hum the alphabet to drown out their moans.

"Honesty is good," Finn mumbles. "By the way, uh, I'm sorry about the whole... thing that happened here." I can practically see the look on his face as he awkwardly fumbles through his sentence.

"We were drunk as hell. We're both to blame."

"I mean... to tell the truth, I'm embarrassed about how badly it went."

"Oh, you mean the fact that neither of us came?" Ava inquires. My eyebrows leap up my forehead. "It's fine, we should've expected–"

"Yeah, yepp, that's it," Finn spits out in a high-pitched tone like he already knows I'm going to grill him later. "Glad that's out of the way– now, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I don't like how we left things a couple months ago," says Ava. "You were a big part of my life, and I want to make sure we're both able to move on from our relationship without a big, dramatic blowout."

"Me too," Finn cautiously states.

"So, uh, in case no one told you yet..." Ava prefaces her next sentence with a sharp inhalation. "I'm talking to Lars. We're probably going to start dating soon."

I should've called this. Her appearance, Lars's demeanor, the way the rumor spread... "Oh," Finn says quietly, before following up with a more enthusiastic, " _oh_! That's great!" From the slight creak of the bed frame and the shuffling of clothes, I assume he's hugging her. "Congrats!"

"Thanks." She sounds a tad overwhelmed.

"Yeah, no prob. Is that all you wanted to say?" There's a pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I kind of figured you had something to tell me, too."

"Like what?" asks Finn. Ava sighs loudly. "No, I seriously don't know what–"

"You can just tell me you're dating Liam."

Instead of letting out a nauseating scream, I cram the impulse into the ticking time bomb in my brain.

I expect Finn to burst out laughing or get defensive, but he doesn't. "Why do you think that?" He speaks in a hushed tone.

"Liam told me about you guys."

"Told you what?" Finn's quieter still.

"Right before we broke up, when I took Liam to the hospital, he told me you kissed him."

"It was a mistake," Finn says, not skipping a beat at the end of Ava's statement. "You and I had a huge fight on the phone, then I took a pill, and I started going fucking crazy." As he confesses, my veins freeze over. He really did take Nine for the first time that night. "I kissed him because I thought it'd be funny. I thought he'd know it was a joke– I thought he _knew_ it was a joke. Not something real." _A joke_. That's all I am. I'm a joke to my own goddamn soulmate.

"You still didn't give me an answer," Ava asserts. "So you two aren't dating?"

"No, we're not. I don't get why you think that."

"God, Finn, I don't know! Maybe because you two are at this party together, and you seem weirdly close, and this is all happening after I..." Her voice trails off. "I never told you this, Finn, but I convinced myself you wanted to break up with me for him."

"I didn't..." Finn begins quietly, breaking to inhale so he can increase his volume tenfold. "I _didn't_ break up with you for him! You _know_ we broke up because–"

"Because we grew apart! Conveniently, that all began when you started being with him all the time!"

Through my anxiety-induced fog, I can't help but wonder if she's right. "You're overreacting," murmurs Finn.

"It's just the way I view it–"

"I'm seeing someone right now," Finn interrupts her. "Not Liam. A girl, by the way, since you don't seem too sure about that."

"Okay, okay, I get it. My bad," Ava apologizes hollowly. "That's all I wanted to know. Because of honesty and moving on and all of that bullshit." The floor creaks, revealing that she's on her way out.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice," says Finn.

"You don't have to say that. We're not together anymore, it doesn't matter," Ava replies.

"I'm still sorry," he mutters. Moments pass. "Is this supposed to be 'closure' or whatever?"

Ava laughs bitterly through her nose. "Something like that." She bids him goodnight and closes the door behind her.

Quietly, I rise to my feet and glance through the slats in the closet. Finn sits hunched over on the bed with his face buried in his palms. He interlocks his fingers and looks toward the bedroom door, then to the ground, then hides behind his hands again. He appears different than I've ever seen him, more timid. I hesitate before pushing through the door and into the shallow light of the lamp on the nightstand.

Finn remains unmoved as I shift my weight from one foot to the other, wondering when one of us will dare to break the silence. My grip tears into the mattress when I sit beside him.

Moving in a calculated manner, Finn takes his hands off his face and digs his fingernails into his knees. He utters a defeated, washed-out sound that crumbles as soon as it leaves his throat. Then he smiles, mostly to himself, and lets it fade with the enduring hush between us.

I should say something. I should tell him what he wants to hear: Ava was wrong, I'm happy for him and Sarita, our kiss meant nothing. But the will to pretend dies with the moment; for as much as I like him, I've lied to him too much.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like that." Finn's words fall on each other as they leave his mouth.

I clutch the bed tighter. "What?"

"It wasn't supposed to– I didn't mean for Ava to bring that up," he says. He's still not looking at me. "I meant to talk to you about it, I really did, but I was so fucked up, I figured you knew I was fucked up–"

"I did."

"You did," he repeats slowly, like he didn't expect me to reply. "So I didn't want to make things more awkward by talking about something that didn't need to be talked about, you know?" He speaks fast, like he's trying to get everything out before he loses the nerve.

"I get you."

"Did you tell anyone about it?"

My stomach sinks to the floor. "Why would–"

"Hadds, uh, he said– at that one party, during spin the bottle–"

"I mentioned it to him, I think." Not completely a lie.

"Right, okay. I was wondering, not for any reason, it was just strange he said..." His rapid-fire voice disintegrates. He takes a moment to compose his next sentence. "Weird that he mentioned it though, right?"

"A little."

"He probably likes you."

This is a clear ploy to diffuse some tension, but I'm still taken aback by his accusation. "Definitely not." I pause. "Why do you think that?"

"You gotta see the way he looks at you. It's like this..." Finn demonstrates, locking eyes with me. His stare is soft, full of admiration, and oddly reminiscent of the way he gazes at me when I crack a bad joke. As his face inches toward mine, my lips part instinctively.

But a second later he pulls back, a chuckle chasing his mouth away from mine. "It's such a dopey look, I swear, it makes it seem like he's in love with you."

"I really don't think so, Finn," I say flatly.

"It was just a thought." He redirects his eyes to the ground, pausing before going on. "You understand I wasn't trying to start anything the night that I... _did_ that, right?"

I know. I know he wasn't trying, but he did. He didn't mean to, but he fucked me up. In that stupid moment of Nine-fueled impulse, Finn provided my aching heart with the one thing it needed to shove my feelings into the open: hope. He gave me hope, and he can't take it away again, no matter how many times he might tell me otherwise.

My pulse quickens as I recognize the opportunity to get things off my chest, maybe free myself of some amount of guilt; unfortunately, the moment is ripped away by the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Alexander and a girl I've never met stumble into the room, fingers laced together. They become motionless when they see us.

"Oh, shit," Alexander says, blushing. "Sorry, we'll let you guys do your thing, didn't mean to get in the way–"

Finn's quick to interrupt him. "You're not getting in the way of anything. This room is all yours." He rises to his feet. I follow him out of the room, avoiding eye contact with the pair as I shut the door behind me.

Finn stops outside of the bedroom to look at me. "Weird night," he mumbles. I shrug. His mouth opens, words hanging on his tongue, but his eyes dart away and he turns on his heel. We head back to the living room to rejoin the party, but Finn's moment of hesitation lingers, suggesting that our previous discussion never truly came to a close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support! I've had a lot of fun writing this so far, and every kudos & bit of feedback means the world to me. Quick reminder about Liam & Finn's Instagram accounts:
> 
> Liam's username: l.4coaster  
> Finn's username: mother_effinn_wintercroft


	23. Spring Break, Part Two

Vera and Patrick buy bagels for breakfast and drive a slightly-hungover Finn and I to the bus station. Patrick jokes about how we stumbled in at 4 AM– "Did you get your stomachs pumped before you got home?"– and Finn retorts with sarcastic grunts through a mouthful of bread.

 

The adults hug me goodbye, reminding me to be careful and which stop to get off at. Finn's hug endures. I open my eyes halfway through the embrace and catch a glimpse of his mother maintaining a smile with her hand in her husband's.

As we break apart, Finn's lips pause beside my ear. "Check the front pocket of your bag on the bus."

While I still have two adjacent bus seats to myself, I unzip the pocket. Inside, there's a water bottle half-full of an amber-colored liquid and a note: _Stole some stuff from the parental liquor cabinet for your bus ride. Enjoy. Tell Hadds I say HI MOTHERFUCKER._ I take a sip before a frail old woman sits beside me, then I sheepishly put the bottle away for the rest of the trip.

During the ride, I send Hadds a couple Snapchats: one video of the highway zipping past the window, and one photo of me looking the perfect amount of worn-out-but-not-ugly. He replies with a picture of his face, put through a filter, and very clearly retaken a thousand times before landing on a perfectly-angled shot. It's captioned, _better be ready to see my fine ass soon._ I smile at the screen as the image fades away.

He's ten minutes late to pick me up. I sit on the curb outside of the station until a white Jeep rolls to a stop in front of me. Hadds's laughter trails out the open window.

"I'm here to pick up my lost puppy," he quips.

"I wouldn't call me 'lost,'" I say as I climb into the passenger's seat. "More like abandoned."

"Hush. I'm only, like, five minutes late."

"Ten."

"Wow, you counted. Eager to see me or something?"

"Something." I smirk. He returns the expression.

We talk with the same tempo of banter that comprises conversations at our highest points. The ease of our camaraderie almost makes me forget about Hadds's voice telling me how he wants to ravage my body. Almost, until I meet his mom and the only thought reverberating in my mind is _you have no idea what your son said to me during family vacation time._

Hadds's mom is short, curvaceous, and expressive. Her stature and attitude don't remind me of someone who's old enough to be the mother of a college student.

She pulls me into a tight hug when I meet her. "Call me Camila," she announces, pushing her long, black hair away from her face. "Or Cam. Don't matter to me."

"Nice to meet you," I say, reeling a bit from the smell of her perfume.

"Likewise." She turns to Hadds. A congenial smile remains on her lips, but her tone turns harsh. "Harrison, I thought I told you to turn off the light in your room before you left."

"I did," Hadds states.

"No, you didn't! It's on right now, you can look!" cries Camila, pointing an accusatory finger toward the staircase.

"Okay, geeze, I forgot!" he exclaims. "Can I show my friend the house before you chew me out more?"

Camila sighs. "Fine. I'll make a snack. What do you like, Liam? Chips, pretzels...?"

When she leaves for the kitchen, Hadds whispers something derogatory under his breath.

The Adds' house is a far cry from the Wintercrofts'. The rooms are full of mismatched furniture, piles of uncategorized items are spread out on every surface, and the garden contains more weeds than flowers. Hadds doesn't seem to be ashamed of his surroundings, save for his own bedroom.

Framed pictures of prepubescent Hadds hang on the pale green wall. His middle school diploma has been tacked above the head of the bed, and the blades of a ceiling fan have been painted the colors of the rainbow.

"I never really spent time here in high school, so I didn't bother to personalize it," he explains, blushing.

"Cool diploma. What'd you major in?"

"Raging hormones."

"Oh, neat, me too." When I sit on the bed, a collection of scratches on the bedpost catch my eye. "Are these... _tally_ marks?" Hadds looks gaunt. "Fuck, man. Don't tell me you put actual notches on your bed."

"I was sixteen and dumb, okay?" he shoots back. "Little virgin Hadds thought sex was a big deal back then."

I run my finger over the scratches. "Fifteen tallies? I thought you've only slept with two people."

"That was the coitus count for a particular person in this particular bed."

"Nice."

"Yeah, best days of my life," he says sarcastically. "Why'd you have to point that shit out? Why couldn't you have made fun of my baby pictures like everyone else?" He motions toward the photos on the wall.

"I was getting there." I walk over to examine them as Hadds watches. "Which one of these guys is your dad?"

"The bald, nerdy-looking one. If you look closely, he disappears from the photos as the years go on. Camila's antics should be a good indicator of _why_."

"She's not that bad."

"You're funny," he deadpans. "Anyway, let's go get drunk."

I cringe. "You mean... at a bar?"

"No, at the Baptist Church down the road. _Yes_ , a bar," Hadds retorts.

"Uh, funny story about that." I launch into the story of the gas station cashier and following Finn to Maris's backyard. Hadds looks increasingly disappointed.

When I finish, he narrows his eyes. "Finn's such a fucking idiot. Letting you go in there without knowing if the place is lenient or not– rookie move. No, no, just a straight-up _dumbass_ move." He starts rifling through a drawer in his desk, mumbling about Finn's stupidity as he goes. After a bit of searching, he emerges with a small rectangle of plastic. "Here. Memorize it. It's expired, but there's a place in town that won't care."

The guy on the ID is grinning haughtily. His hair is shorter than mine and he's got his ears pierced. According to his birthdate, he's twenty-three. I frown. "Dude, this isn't gonna work."

"Yes, it will," Hadds insists. "Don't be worried. Honest to God, when you and I met, you reminded me of him."

I squint at the picture. I guess– with blurry vision– I can see how he'd think that. "Who is this guy?" I ask.

Hadds pauses, clenches his jaw, and nods toward the bedpost.

•

We sit at the bar and he takes care of the drinks, ordering weird concoctions he sipped on in Puerto Rico while regaling me with stories about being wasted on the beach. I tell him about Maris's party and my conversation with Finn. He shakes his head. "What an idiot," he mutters. "What a fucking idiot."

"I don't get why you keep saying that," I interject, my tone cold.

"Because he _is_ an idiot. He finally speaks up about what happened between you two and the only thing he says is 'duh, I did it because I was kissed.' He fucked with your life just because he was on drugs? That's a bullshit excuse."

"I kissed you for the first time because I was on drugs."

For a second, Hadds is taken aback. "Yeah, sure, but you thought I was hot in the first place. It was bound to happen at some point."

"When did I ever say I found you hot before then?"

"You didn't, but–"

"I didn't. Exactly. Finn shouldn't be blamed for kissing me when he was fucked up. He didn't know how I felt about him, and he still doesn't. He's not dumb for using that 'excuse.'"

"Alright, alright, you win. But damn, you really like him." I furrow my brow. "I say that because you're defending him pretty hard."

"I'm not defending him. I'm stating facts."

"Okay, you're defending him by stating facts."

"No, Hadds, I'm just–" Suddenly, his hand shoots out at light-speed and grabs my shoulder. "What the hell?"

"Do me a favor." Hadds's eyes are wide. "It'll be the only favor I ever ask for, I swear."

"Why do you look so freaked out?"

"Just listen to me." His gaze darts between my face and something behind me, like there's a vicious tiger waiting to strike from the other end of the bar. "Just-fucking-listen."

I sigh. "What, Hadds?"

"Kiss me. Like you mean it."

I'm not sure how to describe the way my mien contorts in reaction to his statement, because I have never made that face before and will probably never make it again.

But I lean in and press against his lips anyway. When I start to pull away, Hadds curls his hand around the back of my neck and gently pushes his tongue in. His motions are tipped with sizzling, crimson lust that I didn't realize I'd been craving, and the warmth we share is so goddamn satisfying that I can't find the will to stop kissing him.

Eventually, Hadds breaks it off. He's not looking at me when we separate. "Thanks," he sputters, sounding out of breath. While I struggle to regain my composure, he downs his drink and gestures for me to do the same. "We gotta split," he whispers in response to my skeptical look. "The guy on your ID is standing right over there."

•

Hadds was in eleventh grade when he came to the disheartening realization that all his friends were straightedge.

At sixteen, he'd never had a sip of alcohol or a single joint, but he felt ready and willing. When he expressed this desire to his circle of confidants, they were less than pleased to hear it.

So he secretly scouted out some prospects, infiltrated friend groups, and eventually got invited to go to a concert with a well-known party girl and a group of her friends.

The girl's twenty-one-year-old brother, Austin, ended up taking them to the concert. Austin was– in Hadds's words– "the most gorgeous creature in all of creation" and also "gay as shit." Austin bought everyone drinks and talked to Hadds for half the show. The other half was spent making out with him.

One of the other kids, feeling drunk and disorderly, took a video of them in the heat of their passion. They proceeded to send the video to a multitude of people from school, and the video made its rounds in the blink of an eye.

Hadds was the talk of the district, and only escaped the constant cloud of gossip when school ended. That summer, Hadds turned seventeen; shortly after, Austin began contacting him again. Though Hadds was hopeful for a romantic relationship, the rest of the story amounts to nothing more than notches in Hadds's bedpost.

He tells me all of this as we walk back to his house, a six pack from the grocery store secured for future drinking. While he talks, my mind wanders back to our kiss in the bar. I make an effort to appear supportive in hopes my empathy will be rewarded with more macking.

"Thanks for listening to all that," Hadds says as we approach his doorstep. "And, uh, thanks for kissing me when I asked, too. It was petty revenge, but it felt so fucking good, y'know?"

"Kissing did feel good," I say dreamily.

Hadds raises an eyebrow. "I think we're talking about two different things."

My face burns with embarrassment. Way to have a one-track mind, Liam. "Oh. Whoops," I murmur.

"Don't get me wrong, though. The kiss itself was fucking hot." He takes a step closer. The bottles in the six pack clank as he gravitates toward me and my pulse quickens. "It'll be twice as hot later. C'mon, let's get inside before my mom sees what we got..."

He reaches out for the knob, but the door opens from the inside. Camila stands in front of us; one perfectly-manicured hand rests on the door and the other's gripping a glass of wine.

"Hi Liam," she says brightly.

"Hi Ms. A– er, Camila," I respond.

She smiles, then looks at her son. "Where'd you get the beer, Harrison?" False saccharinity pervades her words.

"Robbed a gas station," he says gruffly, pushing past her and into the house.

"Ha, ha." She sounds like she's seconds away from exploding. "You better not be buying that yourself."

"Wouldn't dream of it, mother," says Hadds.

"If you get arrested, I'm not using my money to bail your ass out."

"You've told me that before," Hadds replies in a sing-song voice.

"Well, I'm reminding you."

"You've reminded me many times."

Camila exhales dramatically and flicks strands of hair away from her face. "I'm going to bed soon, so just don't be loud." God, if I was toting beer when I walked into the house, my mom's reaction would be radically different than Camila's.

"We'll go in the basement," Hadds tells her.

Camila walks over to him. I strain my ears to discern her whispers. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"Down here, on the couch," says Hadds. "And he'll sleep in my bed."

"Good." She embraces him. "I'll be up early– earlier than you think– so don't try tricking me."

"I'd never."

After Camila graces me with a hug as well, Hadds and I descend into the basement to pop open a couple beers. The buzz hits me instantaneously.

"She basically walked in on Austin and I once," he says, unprompted. "She got let out early from work. Austin and I were being loud, like usual." His face is flushing. "I didn't hear her come home, but then she screamed at the top of her lungs from downstairs. Austin fucking peeled out of the house." He takes a swig from his bottle as I chuckle. "The worst part? At the time, she didn't know I wasn't straight. _That_ was a fun day."

"And that's why I'm not allowed to sleep in the same room as you?"

"That's the gist."

"That could complicate things."

Hadds shakes his head. "She's booked solid at her two jobs the next few days. Don't you worry."

"I'm not worried," I declare. "You've been itching to jump my bones for so long, I figure nothing's going to stop you this week." I've got a sly smile on my face and I know it.

Hadds laughs through his nose. "Got me down to a science, huh?"

With memories of the bar still fresh in my mind, I inch closer to him, trying to hint toward what I want. "I'm getting there." I tug at his collar. He catches on.

Later, before he says goodnight, he mentions that was his first time getting head in his own basement. I can't help but feel accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I have a new story up that I'm pretty excited about. It's definitely going to be a less lengthy undertaking than this one, haha. But if you're liking this story so far, you'll definitely enjoy my new piece, "Broken Carts." Check it out on my profile if you're interested! 
> 
> And as always, thanks so much for reading & supporting this silly story of mine. It really means the world to me!


	24. Reaction

The tallies on the bedpost haunt my dreams. When I wake up, I run my fingers over each individual line, trying to divine the event behind the scratch, wondering if these marks are Hadds's origin story.

"Do you resent Austin?" I ask over breakfast.

He takes a moment to think about it. "There's no reason to. I thought he liked me in a romantic way, but he didn't, and I let him fuck me anyway 'cause something was better than nothing. I learned from the whole shit-show, though."

"So you'd never let that situation happen again."

He smiles. "I'd try to avoid it, at least."

I nod and bite into my bagel, realizing that I've eaten more of these things in the past few days than I have during the last ten years of my existence. "So what did your mom say after she caught you guys fucking?"

Hadds pouted out his lips and said in a mocking tone, clearly meant to imitate Camila, "'I don't care who you put your dick in, just don't do it in my house, and don't tell your stupid father, 'cause he'll fly back from Puerto Rico and beat your ass with a Bible.'"

"I thought your mom was from Puerto Rico."

Hadds smirked. "Oh, man. I never told you about Richard Adds."

"Dick Adds? Nope."

"Richard Adds... no, actually, I like what you said, let's call him Dick. Dick Adds: Studied abroad in Puerto Rico when he was twenty. Met Camila, a fresh-faced, seventeen-year-old Puerto Rican harlot. They fell in love, he went home and she followed, unknowingly carrying a tiny little fetus along with her. They got married when she was eighteen and I was almost a year old." Hadds recalls the story with little emotion. It's a far cry from Finn's explanation of his familial situation, but it's no easier to swallow. "After a couple years, they started to hate each other– and boy, it showed. They divorced when I was ten, and good ol' Dick ran off to live in Puerto Rico so he could hook up with my mom's sister and never make an attempt to see me again. Needless to say, both of them have been ex-communicated from mom's life."

"Jesus Christ," I breathe.

"We have fun in my family." Hadds grins. It's equally painful and fake.

•

Life with Hadds is slow and constantly tinted with intoxication. We get high in a park and walk around his town– just walk, because we don't want to buy more bagels or pizza or coffee. Back at his house, we binge on screwdrivers and watch indie movies. Hadds makes no effort to plan exciting ventures or show off points of interest in the area. "There's nothing to do around here except get fucked up," he says. From what we've done so far, he might be right.

We sit on separate sides of the couch as we stare at the television. Every so often he lies down or I lie down, but never at the same time. There's tension seeping between the cracks in our comfortability.

The echo of the empty house bares down on my mind; I zone out during the movies, wondering if he's going to make a move, or he's waiting for me to make a move, or maybe he just wanted to watch films and sexual activity was never a factor.

I take a trip to the bathroom, and when I come back, Hadds is holding my phone.

"Dude!" he exclaims. "Look who texted you."

"Didn't realize you're my secretary," I mutter.

"C'mon, just check out the message, I'm laughing my ass off..."

* * *

**Marcello Capelli:**

Hey Liam! :) Hows your break going?

_**Received at 4:13 PM** _

* * *

I cringe. "Maybe he's drunk."

"That's even worse! That means you're the person his drunk heart wants to talk to! Not his boyfriend, _you_!" Hadds is sniggering unnecessary loudly. "Oh, shit, this is too much."

"I'll just, uh, let that sit there for a bit," I said, putting my phone down.

"Yeah, last thing you need is Adelis jumping down your throat for texting his man. You think he isn't sucking Marcello's dick enough or what?" asks Hadds. He's still grinning.

"I can't see Marcello being that kind of guy who would care," I reply.

"But you can see Adelis not sucking enough dick."

"It's possible."

"God, maybe we should text him," Hadds suggests, a manic tone to his voice. "Tell him what his boyfriend's doing while they're on vacation together."

I crinkle up my forehead. "Marcello's just being friendly. It's not a big deal."

"Adelis hasn't randomly texted me since they got together. It's probably a big no-no."

"Or Adelis doesn't want to text you." It comes out meaner than I intend.

Hadds just shrugs and finishes his drink. Then he takes a sip straight from the bottle of vodka. He's seething in silence, brow furrowed as the swelling score of the movie punctuates his attitude.

Then he leans over and kisses me forcefully. It's so unforeseen that it takes me a second to close my eyes in response. He climbs over my body and I lie down, his legs straddling mine. We make out for a few minutes– it kind of feels like a war between our tongues– before he sits up and nods his head toward the stairs. "Come on," he growls, one hand on my clothed boner.

I'm about to mindlessly follow his directions when a thought comes to me. "You don't mean... sex, right?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"I thought your mom was going to be home in half an hour."

"So? We can be quiet."

Premonitions of Camila screaming at me like she did Austin make me shudder. I prop myself up on my elbows. "You're kidding me," I say. "We had the house to ourselves all afternoon, and you choose _now_."

"Yeah. We weren't in the mood all afternoon, we're in the mood now, let's go."

"Well, I'm not," I begin, gathering the courage to stab Hadds where it hurts. "Because you only want..." Hadds sucks his lips in toward his teeth and straightens his back. He looks intimidating. Abort mission. "Nevermind, I must be wrong."

"No, tell me what you were going to say." He untangles himself from my legs and sits beside me on the couch, arms crossed and expression stoic.

I inhale before speaking. "I know you only want to fuck me because of Adelis."

"Bullshit," he snaps. "I don't give a shit what Adelis does, he has nothing to do with my fucking sex life. Why the fuck–"

"But he does!" I interject. "He has everything to do with it, because every-goddamn-time you try to fuck me, it has something to do with Adelis!"

"You're wrong."

I sit up and ball my fingers into fists. "Okay, well, then explain why the first time you wanted to have sex, when you took me to the motel, it was right after Adelis started dating Marcello." Hadds is staring daggers at me. "And the next time was when Adelis wasn't acting like himself after that failed Nine deal. And _this_ is right after Marcello texted me even though Adelis hasn't been talking to you. It's all connected to fucking Adelis, it's all knee-jerk reactions, it's not about me or you or us like it _should_ be." I didn't realize I felt so strongly about this, but as the words pour out of my mouth, relief washes over me.

Hadds looks away. His straight-line mouth slowly curls into a fiendish smile. "I don't remember any of it like that."

"Well, maybe you were too fucking blinded by your pride to see it." Instinct tells me to get out before anything else blows up in my face. I shove my feet into shoes and head to the front door. "I'm gonna go walk around town since you won't show me anything yourself."

"Fine," says Hadds, stretching his legs out on the couch. "Have fun being delusional."

My face burns hot. Anger rises. "Have fun daydreaming about Adelis." Hadds grits his teeth. I open the front door and take a step outside, then turn back to deliver the final blow. "Fuck me because you want me, not because you can't have someone else."

In the movie version of my life, that's when I'd slam the door, there'd be a slow pan to Hadds looking regretful, then a shitty-sad pop song would narrate my trek throughout town as I meet the locals and discover true happiness until Hadds comes running up to me on an empty sidewalk and owns up to his mistakes. A romantic kiss, we fall in love and forget our "soulmates," fade to black.

In reality, I get halfway down his street before he does the whole "running up to me on an empty sidewalk" bit, which definitely isn't enough time to meet any locals or soul-search.

For a little while, he just walks beside me with hands in his pockets and his face downcast.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "Do you know why I like Adelis?"

"I don't."

"It's stupid. Like, really, really, ridiculously dumb. You're going to laugh when I tell you. Actually, I hope you laugh."

"Tell me."

Hadds exhales slowly through his mouth. "During orientation, we were inseparable. Everyone knew us as a unit, a pair, a fucking force to be reckoned with." He smiles faintly. "On the last night we were there, Adelis and I snuck out of the dorms and went up to the hills behind the school, the ones by the soccer field. We shared a bottle of wine and told each other everything. Stories, secrets, all that stuff." He pauses. "He was different back then, I think. Calmer, more willing to listen. I don't want to say less selfish, but I guess that's what I'm getting at. He listened to me rant about my shitty childhood and my rocky high school years, and he looked at me and told me he admired me. That's the moment that made me realize how much he meant to me. That one, tiny thing." He shook his head. "And I cried, and I didn't know why, and he let me lie on his chest and get his shirt soaking wet.

"I woke up the next day and saw him packing his things, and I was overwhelmed with sadness. I missed him before he was gone. Back then I knew I liked him, but I wouldn't let myself admit it until that day at Julisa's... and you know the rest."

Hadds teeters on the brink of tears. It's still tough for me to wrap my head around why he's so into Adelis, but I'm beginning to realize that my feelings for Finn come from a similar source.

"Stupid I caught feelings after that, isn't it?" he murmurs. "Fuckin' stupid."

"Not any more stupid than falling for someone after they take drugs and kiss you."

He looks up at me and smiles, positivity peeking through despite shimmering eyes. "Come on, let's go back," he says. "Mom's gonna be home soon and she'll be pissed if I don't help make dinner."

We decide to spend a quiet night in. Camila enlists us as sous chefs for dinner prep, then we eat and talk with her while she watches TV dramas and guzzles wine. When she's not crawling up Hadds's asshole, the pair seems to get along swimmingly. They're scary alike in fundamental ways: their mannerisms, their attitude, even their hair. I think they both see the similarities, but wish they didn't.

Finn shoots me a text before I get into bed.

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

found this on the side of the road and im 85.9% sure it's ours from that night we got drunk on the beach LOOOOL. miss you roomie. break isn't the same without you

_**Received at 12:50 AM** _

* * *

Attached is a picture of an empty bottle of wine. I smile, my heartbeat quickens, and I start to wonder if Hadds and I will ever be able to shrug off our moments that changed everything.


	25. Uninterrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not wanna read this chapter at work. Or anywhere in public, for that matter. Enjoy.

Hadds wakes me up early. "What the hell," I mutter through a cocoon of blankets. "I have an alarm set for noon."

"Well," he begins, sitting beside me on the bed. "I woke up and started thinking about things we could do in town."

"Yesterday you said there was nothing."

"That was me being cynical," he admits, manifesting the blow to his pride in a cringe. "I think there's a few things you'd find interesting. Like, there's this park down the hill from my house. It's kinda lame, full of broken playground equipment and trash, but it has a river running through it that looks nice when it's a sunny day. You might like it." I rise into a sitting position. He inhales sharply. "Then, uh, I know you're sick of bagels, so I figured we could splurge a little and hit the high-end brunch place on Main Street. Their home fries are awesome and they have bottomless mimosas from eleven to two." He scratches the back of his head. "I have a couple other things in mind, but we can play it by ear. Is that cool?"

"That's cool," I say, peering up at him. His pajama pants are loose and his shirt is askew, revealing a sliver of underwear hugging his hip bones. Meanwhile, my morning wood is throbbing. I have a strange suspicion it's being egged on by a certain outside force.

Hadds smiles, looking pleased with himself. "Alright, get dressed. I put some coffee on to help you wake up, I can bring it to you– you take cream, right?"

When he moves to leave the bed, I clasp my fingers around his wrist. "Wait."

He looks confused. "No cream?"

I kiss him in response. It starts soft, then crescendos into something passionate, a reflection of how he's made me feel in the few minutes I've been awake. I pull him down next to me and slide my hands under his shirt.

"The coffee's gonna get cold," he mumbles between kisses.

"I'll make more." Emboldened, I guide his hand to my erection. His eyes widen. "Your mom's gone?"

"My mom's gone."

"When's she coming back?"

"Five-thirty."

"That's good."

"Really good."

"You should grab things."

"I should."

He rummages through a pocket of his suitcase until he finds the necessary paraphernalia. It seems like I've seen this yellow condom box a thousand times, but the way the morning light seeps in through the blinds illuminates the surface like it's finally ready to make its debut.

He's trying not to grin, I can see it. The sight of him stifling his excitement is precious. I want to capture the moment in my head and keep it close in case everything goes south after this.

The condoms and lube are placed on the nightstand before he climbs on top and continues making out with me. His hand slowly drifts beneath my underwear. "Fuck, you're so hard," he whispers into my neck.

His warm breath on my skin causes goosebumps to rise. "I want your dick in my mouth," I murmur. I tug his pants and boxers down to his ankles and tease his dick with my tongue, flicking the tip until he digs his fingernails into my shoulder. He instructs me to take off my underwear, and I obey. As I lick his shaft up and down, he's lubing his fingers, preparing to massage my hole slowly in prolonged circles.

I take his dick in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head as I move. My gaze connects with his half-lidded stare. I watch with satisfaction as he smiles before letting a heavy exhalation escape his lips.

"Shit," he chuckles breathily. "You're gonna make me cum before I can even fuck you."

"So you're topping?" I ask. "Er, not to ruin the mood or anything."

He smirks. "I figured it was obvious." Oh, thank God. I still view myself as a confused virgin, nowhere near ready to take control.

My relieved thoughts are cut short when Hadds's finger enters me. He uses his other hand to stroke my erection, and before I can choke out a pleasured noise, he pushes his tongue deep into my mouth. When we break apart, I help him out of his shirt and massage his chest. He concentrates one hand on my cock and the other on my anus, gently pushing fingers inside, making me want to melt into him.

Sunlight illuminates the smooth skin of Hadds's back as he tears the condom open and prepares himself with lube. Blurry shadows in the room mirror the softness of his fingers against my skin. He aligns himself between my legs and pets my thighs as he speaks. "Ready?" he asks as he leans in close. Errant strands of hair divide his face into parts.

"Yes."

"You sure?" His hand lazily brushes against my cock.

" _Yes_ ," I say with a tone of urgency.

"I don't know, I kind of like torturing you." The smug grin on his face could swallow me whole. "It's pretty fucking hot, watching you squirm..." He fondles my balls and I groan.

"God, Hadds, just fuck me," I hiss.

Hadds moves with more tenderness than I imagined. He makes quiet, breathy sounds as he thrusts in and out, pushing the tiniest bit more of himself in each time. Whenever there's a twinge of pain, I grip the sheets.

He's starting slow, slower than Marcello– God, I shouldn't be comparing the two. I don't want to think about Marcello at all. I should probably be more concerned with the fact that I'm actively getting penetrated.

But my mind keeps wandering back to Marcello's room, the drunken way we went about my first time, the stupidity of it all. It was dumb on both of our parts; it was probably more of my fault than Marcello's, but I still want to blame him. When Hadds goes a little too far in, I'm shaken from my memories and return to reality in time to release an unpleasant croaking noise.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Too deep?"

"Took me by surprise," I reply.

"Need a second?"

"Yeah."

He pulls out and hovers over my body, gently caressing my chest. "This is, uh, actually my second time topping. Ever," he admits after a pause.

I scrunch up my forehead. "For real?"

"Yeah. 'Not to ruin the mood or anything,'" he mocks. "Austin wasn't really much of a bottom."

"Neither was Marcello." It feels relieving to get his name into the open and out of my head.

Hadds grimaces. "God, I can't believe he was your first."

"For the record, this is already going better than that fiasco."

"How so?"

"Well, I'm maintaining an erection." I gesture toward my penis and Hadds chuckles.

"You're ridiculous."

"Ri- _dick_ -ulous." I smile as he laughs harder.

"Okay, okay," he sighs, settling himself down. "Prepared to get back into it, champ?"

"As long as you don't call me champ anymore, sure."

"Understandable. Won't do it."

He enters me again, but this time there's no pain; just Hadds, my best friend, teaching me that I have the ability to feel something during sex. He laces his fingers with mine as he progressively quickens his thrusting with my permission, all the while studying my expression for any adverse changes. I'm allowing my body to fully experience every new sensation that he presents.

He swears through his teeth every so often. The rhythm of the bed thumping against the wall syncs with his airy expletives, sending shivers through my body. I love the way he grits his teeth when he fucks, the way he strains and licks his lips when he goes harder. His performance is captivating.

Eventually he grabs my hand and curls it around my dick. "I'm gonna cum soon," he warns. "I want you to cum, too."

"Okay," I say cautiously, unsure if I'm ready.

I try to concentrate on the pressure and the pleasure, the feeling in my dick as I stroke it combined with Hadds thrusting into me, but I find myself thinking about Marcello's bed again. I'm remembering how cold the room felt, how sloppy we were, how I never fit into his semblance of a life.

" _Liam_..."

Hadds's moan pulls me back to the present, to _his_ room, not Marcello's. Somehow, lying amongst the old photos and painted ceiling fan blades and middle school diploma, I feel like I belong. I'm a part of Hadds's life, a part of Hadds himself.

Sensation rushes to my body. Hadds gasps for air. I'm intoxicated by the way tension builds in his expression, the way it seizes the muscles in his face and makes his cheeks flush, and now all I want is to watch the dams break in his body. I want, _need_ , to feel his release.

"Hadds," I whisper fiercely, clutching the back of his neck. "Hadds, I want you to cum."

He looks me in the eyes. "You ready?"

"I'm ready." His thrusts become harder, faster. "Come on."

"Liam, fuck–"

"Fucking _cum_ for me, Hadds."

His jaw hangs open as he cries out, his hands clenching the sheets and hips driving my body into the mattress. It's his expression, his tensed, red, anguished expression, that pushes me over the edge. My orgasm rides on the tail of his, bursting with waves of intensity as I rake the skin on his back with my fingernails.

I'm left breathless. Hadds shifts to sit beside me, an exhausted smile on his sweat-stained face. I gaze up at him, and we stare at each other with tilted grins and heaving chests.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I repeat.

There's more we want to say, I can feel it swimming in the space between our bodies– but for now, we leave the words unsaid and let the silence speak volumes for us.


	26. Fortunate Son

The weirdest part about hooking up with your best friend is the way everything resets when it's over. Not even an hour after Hadds and I have sex for the first time, we're all cleaned up, looking sharp and rosy-cheeked on our way to brunch.

"The weirdest thing about it," I say in a low voice over mimosas, "was how I kept wanting to call you _Harrison_ the whole time."

He laughs. "God, I'm so fucking glad you didn't."

"Why?"

"You'd make me think of my mother." He sticks out his tongue. "Boner kill central."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Next time?" says Hadds, raising an eyebrow. "I can pencil you in for tonight."

The waitress comes by and refills our waters. We start talking about how she looks like our old astronomy professor. Everything seems normal.

Except it's not. As Hadds takes me around town, I become wary of the passion in his gaze. I notice that no matter how hard I try, I can't return his look of longing.

Camila's at the house when we get back from our day-long excursion; uncharacteristically, she's not running her mouth from the moment we walk in the door.

"Mom?" Hadds calls out, throwing his keys on the kitchen table. "You home?" There's a distant rustling noise. Hadds furrows his brow and approaches the stairs. "Mom," he says once more. "Are you–"

Abruptly, Camila rushes down from upstairs, hands buried in her pockets. "Hi, baby, I didn't hear you come home." She kisses Hadds on the forehead and dashes to the living room. "Where were you? Showing Liam the town?" When she finds her purse, her hands shoot out of her pockets so fast, they're a blur.

"Yeah, we walked around," says Hadds cautiously. He peers up the stairs, his face falling. Light is filtering out of his room. "Were you in my room?"

"No, no, just upstairs."

"My light's on."

"It's 'cause you always leave it on. I keep telling you to turn it off."

"No, I know I didn't–"

"You left it on, Harrison, I know you did!"

Hadds sighs, rubs his eyes, and heads upstairs without another word. His complexion is pale.

"I'm going to a work party," Camila shouts up to us. "I'll be back later. Turn your light off if you go somewhere, will ya?"

I close the bedroom door behind me. "We definitely didn't leave the light on," I state.

"I know that," snaps Hadds. He starts rifling through one of his bags with feverish determination. He's throwing things on the floor, his face crinkling in frustration with every item he tosses out. Downstairs, the front door slams shut.

"Fuck," Hadds murmurs. One last item hits the floor. He turns the bag inside out and shakes it. Straw wrappers and coins fall out like disappointing confetti. " _Fuck!_ " he yells, flinging the empty bag to the ground. "That fucking _bitch_!"

I open my mouth to question him, then I look at the pile of items on the floor and realize what's missing: nearly ten grams of Nine.

A high school flashback comes to mind, during a time that pure, virginal Liam made friends with the grade's notorious stoner in chem class. On the only day he came in without red eyes and a case of the giggles, he sat down beside me in mourning. "Dad stole my weed," he told me.

In my infinite naivety, I started laughing at the mere thought of any parent smoking weed. He, however, found no humor in it. "The worst part is how I can't call him out about it. He'll kick my ass for having weed in the first place."

Back then I was truly perplexed about the concept of adults stealing drugs from their kids. Now, nothing surprises me.

"I didn't know your mom does Nine," I said to Hadds.

He shakes his head and sinks to the floor in anguish. "She doesn't. She's gonna sell them. She's done it before, she's doing it again. She'll probably sell to her stupid, druggie coworkers– shit!" He kicks a bottle of Advil that was previously contained by his bag. It rolls away and clinks against the handles of vodka we'd amassed in the corner of the room, hidden from sight by a hoodie draped over the top. Hadds stares at them. "Adelis is going to kill me," he mumbles.

"He's not dealing anymore. It shouldn't concern him."

"Yeah, but it was still his shit. Fuck, it's so dumb. After this bullshit, I'm done. I'm done dealing."

At first, I don't believe him. The longer I stare at his puckered expression, though, I realize this may have been a long time coming. "You serious?" I ask.

"Dead ass. I'm not sinking to Camila's level anymore. I don't need this shit. I refuse to be her." Hadds sighs. I frown. "Well, now that I'm feeling fucking fantastic..." He leans forward and takes the hoodie off the bottles, scowling at the scant amount of liquid left in them. He gets up and motions for me to follow.

Down in the basement, he flips a switch, shedding light on a tucked-away cabinet that's overflowing with wine bottles. "Take your pick," he tells me.

My eyes grow wide. "The hell," I whisper, running my hand over one of the labels. "I'm assuming these are all your mom's."

"Duh. But now they're mine." I give him a look. "What? She seems to think my things are hers for the taking. By that logic, I can steal her stuff, too."

With so many bottles in the cabinet, there's not much of a chance she'll notice one's missing. "If she finds out, you better say this was all your idea."

Hadds smirks. "Of course. It'll give me an excuse to yell at her."

In the back of my mind, I already know we're going to fuck again. We're part way through our glasses of wine and barely done with the first half of a Mac Demarco album when Hadds pins me to the floor, lips on my neck. He's got this frenzied energy about him, like he's searching my body for a solution to some unsaid problem. I understand it when he hums in my ear, "I wanna fuck on my mom's bed."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask as he pushes me into Camila's bright orange, erratically decorated room.

"It's fine, her work parties always go all night."

"I mean, like, this isn't weird for you?"

He chuckles and slides his hand up my chest. "You've never fantasized about fucking on your parents' bed?"

The only person I even had the option of doing that with was my ex-girlfriend. We dated for four months in high school and never did anything more than make out. Standing up. Twice. "Not really," I answer.

Everything's quicker than it was this morning, hastened by restlessness. There's more tongue and less talking. I'm too thrown off by a huge, imposing painting of Jesus dying on the cross to cum along with Hadds, so after he finishes, he prepares to give me a blowjob.

With one hand on my shaft and his mouth half-engulfing the tip of my dick, he stops dead in his tracks. The heart-wrenching sound of the front door opening reverberates through the house. For a second we both freeze, our eyes grow to comical proportions, then we leap to our feet and sweep the room for clothes.

"Pants, pants, fuck..." mutters Hadds as I scramble into my shirt that I found on the ground. Still missing a pair of pants and underwear, I whip around in a panic. Hadds is pulling on my jeans. His are nowhere to be found.

"Those are mi–" I begin, but he shushes me, grabs the skirt of the bed, and points furiously beneath it. Oh my God _._ He wants me to hide under there.

I shake my head vigorously, but at the sound of high-heel clad footsteps on the stairs, I realize his dumbass plan is going to have to be good enough to work. Flat on my stomach, I shimmy under the bed feet-first– I take a second to be thankful that the room isn't carpeted– and conceal my entire body moments before Camila reaches the doorway of her room.

"Hi, mom," says Hadds in a cheery tone that would make me suspicious, had I not already known his reason to be suspicious. "How was the party?"

"I left early. But I think you realize that." Her tone is cold and calculated. I get shivers imagining her expression.

"Why's that? Was it boring?"

"Harrison, why are you in my room?"

"Thought I left my phone in here."

"Why would you have done that?"

"I, uh... it's because..."

Camila approaches the bed, but stops on a dime. Silence pervades the air until I hear the sound of a box being shaken. My pulse comes to a standstill. Hadds forgot to hide the condoms.

"Mom, I can explain," blurts Hadds, though it's pretty obvious we're done for.

"Who was it with?"

"It was no one, Mom, let me–"

"Was it Liam?"

"No, no–"

"Where is he?"

"He's not..."

Out of the small opening in the skirt of the bed that I didn't have time to cover up again, I see pink stilettos. Camila kneels down and reaches her hand into the opening. She feels around for me, fingers inches away from my face, and I hold my breath.

"Liam," Camila says emotionlessly as she slips her hand out and stands up. "I'm going to close my eyes and give you until the count of five to crawl out on your own. Otherwise, I'll have to shine a flashlight down there and watch you come out in shame."

She hasn't even finished counting to one before I bolt out of the room and into Hadds's. As I frantically pull on a pair of pajama pants, the door to Camila's room closes. There's a few seconds of stillness before they explode together like a couple of shrieking grenades.

"I TRUSTED YOU TO NEVER FUCKING DO THAT AGAIN–"

"YOU WERE IN MY FUCKING ROOM EARLIER TODAY BECAUSE YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT MY PRIVACY–"

"YOU'RE UNDER MY ROOF, YOU NEED TO FUCKING ACT LIKE IT–"

"EVER SINCE I WAS LITTLE YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN SCUM–"

The screams echo through the upstairs hallway and make my ears hurt. Adrenalin still coursing through my veins, I wrap myself in Hadds's blankets and finish my glass of wine, pretending I can't hear all the terrible things they're screaming at each other.

Hadds returns, red-faced and teary-eyed. He slams the door to his room and immediately picks up the bottle of wine. "Hadds, are you alright?" I ask gently as he gulps down the alcohol.

He places the bottle on the floor, slumps beside it, and rubs his eyes. I'm half-expecting him to cry, maybe scream by the look of his face; but instead, his response is tipped with poison: "Shut the fuck up."

I bolt upright, peeved by his tone. "I'm trying to help."

"You? You're trying to help? Give me a fucking break." He squeezes the neck of the wine bottle like he wants to suffocate it. "You don't know what it's like to have a mother like her. You don't know what it's like to have to grow up with someone so selfish, childish, idiotic, helpless... you never had to take care of your mother while trying to figure your damn self out. You never hated your cheating father's guts, but also understood why he left your psychotic mother. You... you're lucky. You got the _easy_ life!"

"Hadds, I truly feel sorry for you, but I don't want to make this a competition of who had the worse childhood–"

"God, I don't wanna hear your stupid speech right now! Don't apologize for having a good fucking life. You'll never understand what it's like to hurt this much, so take my advice: shut up."

He's right. My parents, for as unhappy as they are sometimes, act like adults. They never blow up when I don't turn off a light, they don't go through my things to find drugs for their own gain, their emotions are mostly stable.

But I hate the way Hadds makes a note of it, uses it as a weapon, says I can't help him. Maybe he's right– maybe I really, really can't do a goddamn thing to make him feel better– but I could at least listen to him, give him a shoulder to cry on. But no, I'm not in pain like he is, I'm not damaged enough to help.

His reasoning makes me livid. The words slip out: "Fuck you."

Hadds smirks, drinks from the bottle, then stares into my eyes. "That doesn't hurt me one bit."

•

Later when I'm lying in Hadds's bed alone, heartbeat refusing to slow down, I realize why I got so angry: Hadds told me I was lucky.

All the hours I spent crying on my knees in front of a fucking toilet, drinking and doing drugs to quell some kind of inner distress, trying to end the pain in my head– that didn't count for shit. According to him, _compared_ to him, I've had a good life.

I'm boiling with rage as I try to recount every terrible thing that's ever happened to me, down to the nitty-gritty, inconsequential details: that time I broke a glass when I was eight and my mom yelled; when my dad got pissed that I didn't make honor roll in ninth grade; how my ex-girlfriend dumped me to date a different guy...

But none of it makes sense, none of it accounts for the sorrow I've internalized. Nothing specific made me spend most of senior year with my head in the toilet. Now, I make an unconscious effort to revel in my own angst. I try to stay miserable enough to feel the constant yearn for intoxicants.

What do I have to feel sad about, though? Doing schoolwork? Dealing Nine? The guys who want me? The guy who doesn't want me? I imagine Finn's smile and I ache. I think about his kisses and I burn.

 _You're lucky_ was what Hadds told me.

The worst part is I'm starting to think he's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the totally unoriginal name of this chapter. For what it's worth: my other ideas were way worse.


	27. Home Stretch

Hadds and I don't talk about what happened. Camila cooks omelettes for breakfast and kisses Hadds on the forehead when she drops us at the train station.

"Be good," she tells her son.

"Of course," he lies.

The moment I set foot in my dorm room, Finn hugs me tightly. The sight of him fills me with relief.

"You look like you're glowing," he says, indicating my cheeks.

"Really? It'll probably fade as soon as I wake up for class tomorrow."

Finn smirks and opens his fridge. "How was life with Hadds?"

I sigh. "A rollercoaster. Do you know about his mom?" He shakes his head. "God, I have so much to tell you."

Finn twists the caps off two beers and hands one to me. "To the home stretch of this semester. Let it be one of unbridled prosperity!" he announces. We clink bottles. I'm about to take a sip, but he stops me. "You have to make eye contact when you toast. Otherwise, it's bad luck." We lock gazes. I drink through a smirk.

A second later there's a gentle knock at the door, accented by a soft " _anyone home?_ " said by an unfamiliar voice. Finn glances at me, brow furrowed, and we hide our beers in his closet.

"Hi! You're Finnean and Liam, right?" says the guy at the door. He's short, nerdy-looking, and holds a stack of papers in one hand and a bag of lollipops in the other.

"Finnean is I and Liam is he, yes," Finn quips. I muffle snickers with my palm.

"Great! I'm Hassan, your new RA." With precise movements, he gathers up a piece of paper and a bubblegum-flavored lollipop, then extends it toward Finn. I see Finn hesitate before accepting. Hassan gives me grape.

"What happened to RA Bill?" I pipe up as I unwrap the lollipop.

"Yeah. We liked Bill," says Finn. What he means is that we got away with everything because Bill was never around, so _that's_ why we liked him.

Hassan's perky smile falls from _over-zealous_ to _attempting to look joyful despite the odds._ He clears his throat. "Well, see, Bill got in a little trouble with the school and was forced to leave his post."

Finn snaps his fingers. "Wait a sec, does that have anything to do with the party that got busted over break?"

The smile on Hassan's face dials down to _you're making it hard to keep my cool, buddy._ "Uh, yes, actually. How did you know?"

"Word gets around."

Bested by his own resident, Hassan nods curtly. "Well, just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I'm here whenever you need me." He points to the papers he handed to us. "Also, as president of Male Call– our school's _only_ all-male glee club– I'd like to formally invite you to auditions, next Thursday at seven in the multi-purpose room."

I glance down at the flyer for the first time. _MALE CALL AUDITIONS!_ stretches across the top in colorful script; below that is a picture of its members posing by our school's welcome sign. It's hard not to poke fun at their cheesy grins and powder-blue suits.

"Auditions?" Finn asks. "Isn't it a little late in the semester for that?"

"Normally yes, but there are extenuating circumstances that have forced a third of our members to drop the club–"

"The party?" Hassan looks me dead in the eyes, lips puckering. "Just a guess," I murmur.

"Where'd you get these fancy suits?" Finn inquires, running his hand over the photo.

Hassan's cheery smile returns in full-force. "You'll get one if you join! They're even more fun to wear than you think!"

I can't imagine too much fun would come out of looking like a baby blanket, but to each his own. "I'll bet," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Hassan glances at his wrist. There's no watch on it. "It's been a pleasure meeting you two, but I have lots more residents to greet, lots more flyers and lollipops to give... you understand."

"Oh, of _course_ ," Finn says empathetically.

"Remember, next Thursday at seven, multi-purpose room. See ya!" He shoots us with finger guns and gingerly closes the door behind him. Finn and I wait five seconds before exploding with laughter.

•

We convene at Burns for a post-break news round-up. Finn and I talk about the party at Maris's– intimate details omitted– and our ID fiasco. "After Liam left, I was bored out of my gourd for the rest of the week," groans Finn. "I didn't feel like doing much. Oh, one day I ended up getting high and watching a _Jersey Shore_ marathon at my friend's house. That was alright."

Hadds speaks highly of Puerto Rico and lowly of his family. When we try to describe our time together, we don't have much to say.

"We laid around in bed and got yelled at by my mom," Hadds comments. That's as accurate as he could possibly describe it.

Adelis returns to school later on, brandishing three suitcases and his boyfriend/lackey. "My _people_!" he cries out, pulling the three of us into a loose hug. "You guys get into trouble over break? I sure hope so!"

Adelis proceeds to gush about beaches and condos and parties and drugs. Marcello silently helps Adelis unpack. I notice Marcello refuses to look at any of us, though sometimes his mouth opens like he has something to add to Adelis's story. Guiltily, I think about his text that I left unanswered.

Once Adelis has inundated us with every highlight of his vacation, he begins to unravel a tangle of clothes that was buried in his suitcase. "Anyway, back to business." At the heart of the ball of cloth is large container brimming with purple capsules.

"I thought you were done selling Nine," Hadds says. His voice is hushed.

"Okay, I totally was, but Marc said he'd been thinking about getting into it, and if he does it I _have_ to start again, you know?" Adelis turns his doe-eyed stare to Marcello. "It's kind of cute, right?"

Hadds scoffs, but after Marcello leaves, he offers to accompany Adelis on a delivery. "I'm going to tell Adelis this is my last drop-off," he whispers to me before they go. For some reason, I doubt he will.

Hadds and Adelis leave, but Finn and I take a detour at our favorite Burns RA's door and clean out his supply of free condoms. We're snickering and stuffing them in our pockets as we enter the lobby of the building, then Finn squints into the distance. "Hey, is that Marcello?"

As if on cue, the tall, tan kid heading toward the elevator stops in his tracks and gives us a nod, eyes bulging. I don't want to approach, but Finn's on his way over before I can suggest we leave him alone.

"I forgot something in Adelis's room," Marcello explains. There's a rustling sound coming from his balled-up fist, like he's crunching a piece of paper.

"Happens to the best of us," says Finn. "Hey, by the way– and I totally don't mean anything bad by this– are you doing alright?"

The comment, though innocent and caring, seems to rattle Marcello. "Doing alright? What do you mean?"

"Like, you weren't talkative today. I don't think you said a word when we were all in Adelis's room," Finn points out. I start feeling nervous, as though I'm feeding off Marcello's vibes. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it, just wanted to make sure things are, you know, not bad."

Marcello gazes blankly above Finn's head. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." His statement is raspy and strained.

Finn nods. "Good, that's good. See you around, Marcello."

As Marcello lumbers off, one hand in his pocket and the other hand crinkling the mystery item, I turn to Finn. "He's sad as shit," I whisper.

A grimace spreads across Finn's face. "No kidding, I think–" He's interrupted by the sound of his ringtone. He sighs, immediately shifts his phone's sound to vibrate, and stops mid-stride as his eyes scan the screen. "Fuck," he exhales, then pivots on his heel. "Marcello!" he cries out across the lobby. Marcello, who'd been waiting for the elevator– despite the fact that Adelis's room is only on the second floor– looks over his shoulder. "You heading back to your place after you stop at Adelis's room?"

"Yeah, why?"

Finn scratches the back of his neck. "Wanna walk there together?" A lump rises in my throat. I'm unsurprised, but not unhurt.

"Uh, sure," Marcello says.

"Great. Then I'll come with you to Adelis's room, too."

Marcello hesitates. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He glances at the empty car, then looks back at Finn. "Actually, I– I just realized I didn't lose anything after all." He uncurls his hand, revealing the crumpled-up piece of paper he'd been messing with. "It was in my hand the whole time. Oops." Marcello chuckles nervously. "Let's get going."

Finn waves goodbye to me, avoiding eye contact. It's like he knows how I feel, but doesn't want to acknowledge it. Fuck, maybe he does.

I get high in our room and think about it. How could he not know how I feel at this point? Maybe I've hidden it well enough– no, God, how could I be so dumb as to think I'm not fucking obvious? I mean, Hadds predicted my crush on Finn before I'd even said anything– Hadds, the guy I started fucking around with because he was a good distraction from Finn– and now we're actually _fucking_ around, and I'm _still_ stuck in the terrible, awful position of being jealous of some girl I hardly know– some girl _Finn_ hardly knows– why is he fucking her again? Didn't he say he was done with her a while ago? Why am I fucking Hadds? Especially after the shit he's put me through? Not to mention all the shit he's probably going to put me through–

Holy fuck, I'm high.

Reality comes back into focus. I surmise that I've been standing at my open window, gripping my bowl for at least ten minutes... if not hours. Shit, I gotta pee. I place my bowl on the windowsill, tell him I'll be right back– his name is Hephaestus, by the way– and whip around to run to the bathroom.

Peeing is an incredible relief. Waves of pleasure run up my spine like a fucking orgasm. Oh my God, I am _so_ high.

There's no one in the bathroom, so I camp out at the sink for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of hot water rushing over my hands. Every drop is like a liquified hug.

As soon as some hipster kid walks into the bathroom, I turn off the faucet and curse him under my breath. He's the kid who's always busking on the corner of Main Street with his stupid acoustic guitar. Why the fuck does he beg for tips when he just uses the money to dress like he's homeless? He walks barefoot around campus, I've seen him do it, maybe he needs some fucking shoes– I'd donate to that cause, no off-key singing needed–

"Liam?"

I jerk my head up, breaking intense eye contact with hipster-boy's naked feet beneath one of the stalls. Hassan stands with one arm leaning on the door frame. He looks... something. It's not happy. Concerned?

"Hi," I respond. Oh, wow, my voice is loud. I cough a little. "What's up?"

"Can you come to my room for a second?"

He walks fast, like, too fast– at least, that's how it seems as I try to keep up with his speedy ass. I'm out of breath by the time I sit down in a really, really puffy beanbag chair in his room. I think I'm going to sink into the floor if I sit in it for too long.

Hassan sighs so loud, it makes me jump. "Liam, I never like doing this. Actually, I try to avoid it whenever possible– it's really hard for me, I like being everyone's friend–"

"What is it?" I didn't mean to cut him off, but even when I'm this high I could get to the point faster than him.

He grabs something off his desk, holds it in his hand, takes a deep, deep breath– so deep I think he's gonna pass the fuck out– and then reveals the item to me.

It's Hephaestus, my bowl. The bowl that should be sitting on my windowsill, not in my RA's hand. "Is this yours?" He says it like he wants me to identify the body of a loved one.

My first impulse is to kick his glasses into his eye sockets. But my second thought is much smarter: deny, deny, deny. "Never seen it," I tell him.

"Are you telling me the truth, Liam?"

"I wouldn't lie." I'm staring intently at Hephaestus, wondering if I can sneak in here later to steal it back. "Uh, also, why would– why'd you think it's mine?"

Looking grief-stricken, Hassan sets my piece on his desk. "It happened a few minutes ago. I happened to be heading home from Male Call practice– we run late sometimes, we just have so much fun with each other– anyway, I was about to enter Silverton when I saw something falling from the sky. Or so it seemed." _Shit_ , I must've bumped it when I ran out of the room. "I caught the item, miraculously, but as I inspected it, I realized it was..." He folds his hands in his lap. "A pot pipe."

Fighting the urge to laugh might actually be the death of me. "That's what it is?" I ask innocently.

I don't think he's buying my angel act. "Yes, well, when I saw that the only room with its window open was _your_ room, it was devastating, Liam. It led me to believe that this device is yours."

I shake my head. "Sorry, Hassan, it's not mine. Maybe someone threw it at you."

"Maybe," he murmurs. "Wait, no. That can't be. That's not the way I saw it fall."

"Okay, well, maybe the window above mine was open, but you didn't see because the light from my room blinded you."

He starts to consider it. Claiming victory, I rise from the clutches of the quicksand beanbag. "Just a second," Hassan says as I stretch my arms above my head. "I have one more question for you."

"Yes?"

"Are you coming to Male Call auditions next Thursday?"

I glance from his pleading, puppy-dog expression to my bowl on his desk. I have a feeling I'll be taking a lot more heat for this mishap if I give Hassan an undesirable answer.

"Yeah, totally," I say after a few seconds. He appears to be relieved.

On my way out of the room, I bid a silent farewell to my first bowl, Hephaestus. I'm inundated with fond memories we've had together: getting too high to go to class, falling asleep at two in the afternoon, and of course, the day I found him at a head shop in town and Finn spotted me the cash. My heart sinks knowing little Hephaestus will surely be trashed after his encounter with the RA who is quickly becoming the bane of my existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering who Finn's favorite Jersey Shore cast member is, it's a tie between Vinny and JWOWW.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading and supporting! This was more of a transitional chapter, but I've got a lot of shit planned for upcoming chapters. Be excited.
> 
> As always, let me know who you're shipping, check out Finn and Liam's Instagrams, blah blah blah.


	28. Nail in the Coffin

Finn doesn't come back until the morning. I've had the whole night to listen to angsty indie music and stuff my face with Cheerios, so I'm not emotionally wrecked when he returns.

He's in stitches while I explain my run-in with Hassan. Then he takes out a notebook and starts drawing in it with a thick, red marker. "We gotta protest, man," he tells me.

"I would, if I hadn't already denied my ownership of the thing."

"It'll be a subtle protest. We'll infiltrate Hassan's subconscious." He hands me the piece of paper he's been drawing on. It says _FREE HEPHAESTUS_ in gigantic letters. "While you're trying out for glee club, I'll hold one of these signs behind you."

I groan. "Oh my God, now I have to fucking try out for _glee club._ I can't even sing well."

"It won't be bad. Sarita was–" He stops, like he didn't mean for her name to leave his mouth. "Uh, she used to sing in her high school's choir. I could ask her to give you lessons or something."

"Finn," I say flatly. "Do you actually think I _want_ to be part of it?"

He shrugs. "I'unno, just being supportive. It's something to do... besides, you could get revenge by destroying Hassan's precious club from the inside."

"Too much work." I stare at the sign in my hand. I notice Finn's starting on another one. All of a sudden, he drops his marker and whips around to face me.

"Oh my _God_ , I almost forgot to tell you. When Marcello was going to go up to Adelis's room last night– remember he was holding that thing he 'thought he forgot?'"

"Yeah, that was weird."

Finn smirks. "It was a note. He was going to break up with Adelis with that note."

My eyes widen. "Dude. No fucking way." He nods excitedly, proud that he's landed on some key gossip. "How'd you find out?"

"He tried to throw it away back at his apartment, but he missed the trash can, and it landed right next to me. Before he snatched it back up, I saw the words 'can't do this,' 'still be friends,' and 'I'm sorry.'"

"Fuck," I breathe.

"Right?"

"So... that's some emotional fallout we have to look forward to."

"You bet." He goes back to drawing on his sign.

Battling a lump in my throat, I decide to get something out of the way while it's fresh in my mind. "Speaking of Sarita, how's she doing?"

He starts concentrating extra hard on the lettering of the first _E_ in _FREE_. "She's good. She went to the Bahamas for break with some of her sorority girls. Er, sisters."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, it's cool."

The sound of Finn's marker on the paper fills our silence. "Are you ever gonna bring her around to hang?" I'm trying to be mature, and also trying to quell my curiosity about their relationship.

Finn peers over at me. "You wanna hang with her?"

"Sure. She seems chill." Judging by the handful of times I've spoken to her. "We should invite her over sometime– oh, didn't Hadds and Adelis wanna party in our room on Friday? Ask if she's free."

"Okay, yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll ask her."

I pat myself on the back for taking the first step to quieting the jealous hisses in the back of my head– the ones that should be quiet anyway, considering I'm fucking someone else.

My phone vibrates. Speaking of someone else.

* * *

**Hadds buttfuck mcgee:**

_Room to myself tonight! Come through later?_

_**Received at 12:41 PM** _

* * *

I cringe at Hadds's name in my phone. I quickly change it to something less relevant before texting him back.

Fucking in a dorm room is kind of terrible. You don't go into it expecting a grand experience; after all, you realize that you'll be the talk of the floor if your moans escalate above a loud whisper. Even when you try to be discreet, the bed frame lightly thumps against the wall as a constant reminder to your neighbors that you're getting some. Plus, the already-tiny mattress feels no bigger than a fingernail when you're trying to squeeze two bodies together in positions that defy the allotted space.

Hadds and I fuck like the second time we did it at his house: less talking, more action, sloppy and unforgiving. This time, though, he gets to finish me off without his mom walking in.

"God, I needed that," Hadds breathes. His naked arm touches mine, but we're nowhere near cuddling. There's an unspoken boundary about that.

"Me too." I'm not sure I fully agree. I don't know how necessary it is, but I guess it beats masturbating while your roommate's at class.

"So is this a good system?"

"Huh?"

"I'll let you know when I have the room to myself, then we take advantage of it."

"Oh. That works," I tell him. "Where is Adelis tonight, anyway?"

"With 'Marc,'" he says in a mocking tone. "I don't know when he left. I hung out with Fitz, and he was gone when I came back. Hasn't answered my texts or anything."

I swallow hard, knowing he's probably bawling his eyes out and begging Marcello to give him another chance. On the other hand, he could be wrecking Marcello's stuff in retaliation. I decide not to divulge Finn's gossip just yet. "He's probably too busy biting a pillow to answer your texts," I suggest.

Hadds grins. "Geeze, Liam. Big talk for someone I just pounded into oblivion."

I almost think Hadds likes lying next to me after sex more than the act itself. When we're fucking, he puts on a show, like he's trying to figure out how to be exactly what I want. During our post-coital conversation, he's bright and sharp– he's Hadds again.

•

Friday comes around quickly. Finn's nervous from the moment he confirms that Sarita and a couple of her friends will be joining our room party. I don't understand why; anxiously, I assume it's because he's afraid we'll embarrass him in front of her.

Adelis shows up with Marcello. The bags under Marcello's eyes signify that he has regrets about never delivering that break-up note. Though Finn's clearly nervous, he still attempts to lift Marcello's spirits by telling bad jokes and offering his stash of save-for-a-special-occasion alcohol.

Hadds plays DJ, picking some bass-heavy, sexually-charged tunes that I've definitely heard before while blowing him. He keeps giving me looks. Behind his head, I see Adelis looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"Finny," Adelis pipes up after a couple rounds of King's Cup. "Are these girls coming or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, Sarita said they're running late," Finn replies as he shuffles the deck of cards over and over. "How about another round?" Everyone mumbles reluctant agreements. Finn looks crestfallen at the lack of enthusiasm.

"Uh, or I could tell you guys about my run-in with our dumb, new RA," I pipe up.

Hadds turns the music down. "What happened?"

"Well, to set the scene, this guy is super nerdy and obsessed with his all-guy glee club. _Male Call._ "

Adelis giggles and grabs Marcello's arm. "No way, I know some guys from that– didn't they get busted at some party, though?"

I nod. "Now they're desperate for new members or something, because this RA– Hassan's his name– he was _begging_ Finn and I to try out."

"Practically on his knees," Finn interjects. He smiles at me, relieved that I took the reigns.

I've just finished the story by the time Sarita and two of her high-heeled friends come to the door. They're holding six packs, Four Lokos, and purses embroidered with Greek letters.

As soon as Finn greets them at the door, Sarita kisses him on the lips. My heart stops. Hadds nudges me, but I can barely feel it.

"Baby," whimpers Sarita. Hadds nudges me again. "I'm so sorry, we got caught up pre-gaming at Lisa's house, it's her boyfriend's birthday."

"Don't worry about it. Come play with us!" Finn says in a cheery tone. It's almost cheery enough to make me forget how nervous he was only a few minutes ago.

Sarita's friends' names are Leanne and Krystal. They don't talk to us much, but talk to one another a lot. Sarita makes more of an effort than them. She makes me her date during King's Cup and winks when she sees me forget one of the drinking rules. She's alright and all, but God, is she loud. Every time she laughs, I swear the floor shakes.

It's barely eleven but we're all incredibly fucked up, drinking heavily and passing around Finn's bowl. The girls have gotten into a heated conversation about their pledge sisters, Adelis is talking Marcello's ear off, and Hadds is critiquing Finn's taste in music. The room is buzzing, my limbs are vibrating with the energy bouncing off the walls. The songs are too loud and too quiet at the same time. I can't discern one voice from the other. Everyone's in their own cocoon of intoxicated socialization, and I feel like I'm watching through someone else's eyes, someone who's not even here.

The girls are getting up– they're leaving. One of them, Leanne or Krystal, wants to finish her Four Loko, but the other two girls convince her to leave it behind. Leanne-or-Krystal jokes that it's a gift for us. I cringe and thank her, knowing someone will probably drink it.

Sarita gives Finn one, two, three– oh my God, how many more– kisses before she exits, yelling "text me!" as she skitters down the hall after her giggling friends. I can hear them talking for a while after they leave, but slowly the music overtakes their voices.

Finn says nothing, he just packs another bowl. Adelis mumbles something about how drunk they were. The room seems silent in comparison to thirty seconds earlier– then there's a gentle knock at the door.

"Sarita probably forgot something," Finn murmurs. He rises to his feet and lazily throws the door open. All I can see from where I'm sitting is the way his body stiffens before he slowly slips the bowl in his hand into his back pocket. Hadds pauses the music. I peek between Finn's legs to get a heart-wrenching glimpse of our guest.

"Finnean," squeaks RA Hassan. "We've gotten a few noise complaints about your room."

"Sorry, sorry, I know we've been loud, we'll be quieter," Finn splutters, hand still partially in his pocket.

"It's not just that," Hassan continues. "I've also... also gotten reports of the smell of pot coming from this room." As soon as the word _pot_ comes out of Hassan's mouth, Hadds is snickering. I refrain from wringing his neck.

"Pot?" Finn repeats. I think he's trying not to laugh, too. "No, you're wrong, that's not us. We don't smoke."

"Then what's in your pocket, Finnean?" Silence. "I thought I saw you put a... a pot pipe in your pocket..."

Finn stammers. Hassan peers into the room. Though our mixed drinks are all discreet enough to be mistaken as soda, the abandoned Four Loko is sitting in plain sight on the floor. Hassan's face grows pale as his eyes lock onto the can.

"Guys..." Hassan sounds heartbroken. "I hate to do this– I mean, I hate this the most– but... but you're doing illegal things in here. I'll need to get University Police involved–"

" _No_!" Adelis screeches, leaping up. "I can't get in trouble with the law, my parents will make me leave school!"

Hassan shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry, I really am, but rules are rules–"

"But I had dreams!" Adelis covers his face with his palms. He's being over-the-top dramatic. I'd roll my eyes if I wasn't scared shitless. "I've been practicing for so long... oh, God, I can't believe I'll never get my chance to audition..."

Hassan looks at Adelis with renewed interest. "What did you say? Wh– what were you going to audition for?"

Adelis drags his fingers down his face and stares at Hassan, despair bursting forth from his huge eyes. "It was a dream of mine, it's almost too sad to mention now that I'll never get the chance..." Suddenly, I catch onto his trick. Oh my _God_ , he can't be doing what I think he's doing. "I've been practicing for months, slaving away... I was _dead-set_ on joining Male Call!"

He said it. He really _fucking_ said it. Hassan can't be dumb enough to believe it, could he? Oh, of course he is, his expression is softening by the second.

Noticing this moment of opportunity, Hadds pounces. "Gosh, I was going to audition too! We were going to try out together– but all those hopes have gone out the window." Hadds opens his arms to "console" his friend. Adelis buries his head into Hadds's shoulder. I can't tell if he's trembling from fake tears or real laughter.

"I was going to audition anyway," I offer, hoping to contribute to the cause.

Something works, because Hassan is starting to look more invigorated than upset. He walks into the room and closes the door, then points at Adelis. "Can you sing a few bars for me?"

As if brought to life by the push of a button, Adelis springs out of Hadds's embrace and rattles off the beginning of "My Favorite Things"from _The Sound of Music._ It sounds angelic, and I'm impressed, if not also stunned by the ridiculous turn of events.

"Oh, wow– amazing!" Hassan compliments, then gestures to Hadds. "And you?"

He starts singing. I'm dumbfounded. I can't believe this is happening– no, no, this _can't_ be happening. Something I had tonight must've been laced with a hallucinogen, because there is no way we're having spur-of-the-moment glee club auditions in my fucking dorm room.

But Hadds sounds great too, and Hassan is pissing himself with excitement. "You guys have true talent, really, you do– oh, I can already see you fitting into our big finale–" Then he points at me. My stomach gurgles with sudden nausea. "Liam? Can you sing a little something?"

No, no, I can't, because I suck, and you'll be reporting us to UPD the moment I open my mouth. But the room is dead quiet and Hassan is waiting, and all I can think to sing is– for some _fucking_ reason– the chorus of "Take On Me."

I'm appalled by the sounds coming out of my mouth, and Hassan stops me before I can even attempt to reach the high " _twooooo_ ," which is probably the only positive thing he'll ever do for me. "Alright, well, we're set on tenors right now, but thank you. As for you two." He points one index finger at Adelis and the other at Hadds. "I'll see you at auditions next Thursday. Though, I must say, you're shoe-ins. Just have to go through formalities."

Adelis claps his hands together. "Does that mean we're off the hook? With the law, I mean?"

Hassan cringes. "To an extent," he says. "But I think you'll all understand– at least I hope you do– that I have to take precautions to make sure this doesn't happen again." He whips out a pad of paper and a pen from his back pocket and begins to write a list that looks a lot like a death sentence.


	29. Messy Mystique

**FROM THIS DAY FORTH:**

_1\. We consent to sporadic room checks by RA Hassan. These can happen as often as he likes. We MUST let him in within SEVEN SECONDS of hearing him knock. If we are not around, we understand that he will wait by our door until we return. Failure to let him in will result in dire consequences._

_2\. Any illegal items found in the room will be confiscated and turned into the authorities. Failure to relinquish said items will result in dire consequences._

_3\. Any disruptions that we create from now until the end of the semester will result in dire consequences._

_4\. We agree to follow this list, or face dire consequences._

* * *

At first, Finn and I treat the list like a joke. We assume there will be a few checks here and there, but nothing we can't avoid. However, when the week is full of gentle knocks followed by "one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi"– sometimes twice in one day– paranoia sets in.

Hassan swore he'd tell Adelis and Hadds's RA to keep an eye on them, too. Predictably, their pot-headed RA hasn't checked in once, so we move all illicit items to Burns. Our room becomes a straightedge paradise, a place that would be approved by parents and nuns alike.

We're forced to stop selling Nine; this is mostly because Adelis cuts us off. "Not that I don't trust you two, but now that you're under surveillance..." He lets his voice trail off, expecting us to fill in the blanks. The blanks become _especially_ filled when we find out Hadds actually did stop selling, meaning Adelis and Marcello are the only ones pedaling Nine. With Marcello's personal rain cloud getting darker by the day, drug dealing has become the couple's glue.

Finn and I aren't used to sobriety, and it shows. Not having substances at our fingertips is inconvenient. Plus, Adelis and Hadds have Male Call practice– God, I can't believe that phrase is a reality– meaning less opportunities to get fucked up at Burns. And without a fake ID, the end of freshman year is shaping up to be an absolute disaster.

Sleep is sporadic, and I shake when I'm up in the middle of the night. I get dizzy in class, head aching for something I can't describe. I think Finn feels it too, and when I see him sigh and pop a pain pill for the second time in one day, I wave at him from my bed. "You okay?" I ask.

"There's this ten-page paper I have to finish before midnight, and I can't shake this stupid headache." He's got massive bags beneath his eyes. "I've been getting them more often. It's shitty."

"I've been feeling off, too."

Finn stares at his desk. "This might sound dumb, but do you think we're going through withdrawal from Nine?"

"It's possible."

"What do we do about it?" he asks, sounding exasperated. "Like, we gotta get kissed, right? Then we'll feel better."

"As long as life agrees to stop kicking us in the ass, then yes, we'll feel better."

Finn nods. "Sage words, my friend."

He works on the paper and I grab some snacks from the student union. While I'm out, I decide to see if Adelis is around so I can score some Nine.

Marcello answers the door when I knock. "Hey," he says, pleasant tone clashing with his less-than-pleasant expression.

"Hi, Marcello. Is Adelis here?"

He shakes his head. "Just left for Male Call practice."

"Damn. I kinda wanted to grab some Nine."

"I would get it for you, but Adelis has a lock on the stash. He took his key with him, and– well, I lost mine. Don't tell him." He smiles sheepishly as I chuckle. "Uh, you can still come hang for a little if you want." I'm about to deny his invitation, but when he looks at me, I see happiness he hasn't embodied in a while.

We share the snacks I got from the union and make small talk about school and our friend group. Whenever Adelis is mentioned, he gets quiet and mows on pretzels.

When Finn comes up though, he starts running his mouth. "I swear, Sarita's always gushing about him. Does Finn talk about her all the time, too?"

"Yeah," I lie. "Do you see Finn at your apartment a lot?"

He shrugs. "I'm usually busy with Adelis, so I don't know how often he comes around. Oh, but this one time– wanna hear something funny?"

"Of course."

"Don't tell Finn I told you this," he says. I probably will, but I nod anyway. "They got kissed a few weeks ago, and he called her his ex-girlfriend's name while they were hangin' out. Sarita got pissed as hell."

"He called her Ava?"

Marcello giggles. "Ava, yeah, I think that was the name. Then they got in this dumb fight while they were hopped up on Nine, and she was all, 'what, do you wish I was your ex or something?' and he was like– it was so funny– he went, 'no, of course not, I cheated on her!' And the whole apartment hears him, and we're all like, 'oh shit!'"

A wave of sickness churns in my stomach. "He said he cheated on her?" I repeat.

"Yeah!" Marcello doesn't realize how wide my eyes have gotten. "We were laughing so hard. He's such a smartass when he's fucked up!"

"Such a smartass," I manage to say, mind whirring.

•

Finn asks where I've been, and I tell him how I wanted to score Nine. Keeping my promise to Marcello, I don't say a word about our conversation.

"You really tried to get us Nine? You sweetheart, you," Finn coos.

"I have my moments. How are you holding up?"

"Could be worse," he surmises. "It's funny. At the beginning of this year, I had no idea what Nine was. Now I don't remember what life was like without it."

"Me neither," I murmur. "God, I can't believe how much I've changed. I only smoked my first bowl over the summer, right before school started, and now..."

Finn stares at me. "Wait, really? I didn't know that."

"I never told you?"

"I feel like there's a lot you never told me." And how. He picks up a pen and starts clicking it erratically. "For someone I've been living with for two semesters, you're still a mystery, Liam."

"There's not much to this mystery. Trust me," I say, placing a hand on my chest. "I did jack shit when I was in high school. Like, I can count how many times I drank on my hands."

"Ooh, do it."

I chuckle and think back, raising a finger for each instance of drinking I recall.

"Wow," Finn says, staring at the seven fingers I end up with. "Are you serious?"

I shrug. "This could either be the amount of times I drank in high school, or an impression of myself after a game of Never Have I Ever."

"I guess I'll never know."

"It's all part of the mystery."

Finn's gaze traces my facial features. "Hey, so, I was thinking..."

"Thinking? That's dangerous."

He rolls his eyes at me, but he's smiling. "I was _thinking,_ fuck this paper." He shuts his laptop and stretches. "Let's take a walk into town. I want a milkshake more than four thousand words in MLA format can describe."

We haven't walked into town together since we could get into the bars. It might be because there's not much to do here besides eat or get drunk. That doesn't mean there's not plenty to like about the place– it's got this artsy, free-spirited charm about it, all snug at the foot of a mountain range.

"Didn't we almost take that hike during orientation?" asks Finn, pointing toward the horizon. "The one into the mountains?"

"Yeah, but the guy leading it was like, creepily excited about nature, so we watched _Harry Potter_ in the lounge instead."

"Right! God, that guy was annoying, wasn't he?" There's a pause, then he gasps. " _Liam_! He was RA Hassan!"

"What, wilderness-enthusiast dude?"

"Yes, yes! That guy! It was Hassan, I swear!"

I crinkle up my face and think about it. "Holy shit, you might be right."

"Geeze, we should invite him to go on a hike."

"Or we could go on a hike and _not_ invite him."

"Fair point."

The fresh air helps dissipate my mental fog. Finn's headache even starts to clear up as we walk down Main Street. We grab milkshakes and, on a whim, decide to browse an outdoor supply shop. Finn tricks the pushy salesman into thinking we're planning a mountain climbing excursion, eventually concluding that the hiking boots they sell are "simply not in style." The salesman thanks us coldly as Finn leads me out of the store, disguising giggles as violent coughs.

"You ever been down to the far end of town?" asks Finn as our laughter subsides.

"Which way is that?"

He points toward the mountains. A bridge leads across the river, followed by centuries-old houses and a public park. It's a residential area that's removed from the bustle of the town, but there is one attraction– besides the tennis court, which I've heard is a prime location for getting high– that leads students down its pothole-laden road.

"Hadds and I walked down there once," I tell him.

Finn's excitement gathers steam. "So you saw it?"

"Saw what?"

"That famous psychic woman's place... what's she called?"

My lip twitches. "Madame Julisa, I think." Her name leaves a weird taste in my mouth. "Yeah, I saw."

"I wanna see it. Hell, I wanna go in."

My pulse quickens. "I don't know if you can just walk in and look around. I think you need to be a client."

"Then I'll make them think I wanna schedule an appointment. Just like how I made that salesman think I was a daredevil mountain scaler," Finn says, looking proud.

"For what it's worth, I think he figured out you were fucking with him when you asked if they sold boots with diamond-encrusted laces."

"Regardless." He waves his hand dismissively. "I gotta know what it's like in that place. This guy in my Latin class met with the psychic, and he said it was a crazy fucking mind-trip. He couldn't believe what that woman said, how she just _knew–_ apparently it took five minutes to figure out who his soulmate was! Can you imagine? A soulmate in five minutes or less! Damn, that would be a good slogan. Maybe I should pick up a job application while I'm there." I bite my lip, remembering how Madame Julisa spent almost an hour trying to extract Finn's name from the ether.

The building is small and made of brick. A neon "PSYCHIC" sign glows bright purple in the window beside an additional, hand-painted sign that I didn't notice the first time around:

 _MADAME JULISA: "THE SOULMATE SEER"  
_ _AS SEEN ON:_  
_– The View_  
_– Jimmy Kimmel Live_  
_– Good Morning America_  
_– El Corazón de Marta Blanca  
_ _–_ **...AND MORE!**

Finn squints. "' _El Corazón de Marta Blanca_.' Isn't that a Spanish soap opera?"

"Hey, being in touch with otherworldly forces doesn't pay _all_ the bills," I quip.

The inside of the building is dimly-lit, with deep purple carpets and candelabras on every surface. A handful of customers are seated on velvet stools in the lobby. An ornate, silver chandelier hangs from the ceiling; it's the first thing Finn's eyes lock onto before the secretary greets us with an enthusiastic, "hi! Do you have an appointment?" Then she gasps. "Oh my gosh, Finny! Hey!" Leanne-or-Krystal waves from the other side of the front counter.

"Yo! I didn't know you worked here," Finn says.

"I started today, actually," she explains, beaming as she points to the name tag on her shirt: _KRYSTAL – ASSISTANT IN PSYCHIC AFFAIRS._ It sounds like a band, not a job position. "So, what can I do for you?"

I'm hoping he abandons the "make them think I want to make an appointment" routine, but he goes through with it anyway, in spite of the fact that this girl knows Sarita. Two minutes later, we're still standing at the counter, waiting for the ancient computer's scheduling program to reboot.

"It does this a lot," Krystal mutters. "I think this thing is like, twenty years old– oh, here we go." She types a few words. The computer utters a discordant noise, and she mimics the sound in a mocking tone. "Ugh, I forgot to... why is it so– _bleh_ – sorry this is taking so long, Finny."

I'm watching Finn get more and more bored. "No worries," he says cheerily in spite of the look on his face. Wow, it's like he legitimately wants an appointment. Jesus, _does_ he?

"I'll be right back," Krystal promises. She dashes into the back, which is separated from the lobby with a thick, black, glitter-speckled curtain. A few minutes later, she returns, flanked by someone. My breath cuts short.

Madame Julisa somehow manages to appear intimidating in the soft light of the candelabras. Her wrinkles cut deep and accent a worsening frown. Her outfit is similar to what she wore the day I met her: maroon cardigan bearing an embroidered, swirling pattern over a dark dress and stockings. Thick rimmed glasses are perched on the edge of her nose, threatening to slide off. I stare at the moon-shaped ring on her finger to prevent her gaze from connecting with mine.

"Which one?" The sound of Julisa's rough voice sends chills up my spine.

"Him," Krystal says, gesturing to Finn.

Julisa peers at Finn over her glasses. Then– to my horror– her eyes dart to me. I feel faint. Her glance doesn't stray as she speaks to Krystal. "The dates with the asterisks. What are they?"

"Uhm." Krystal clicks the mouse. "The first date is a month from today."

Julisa removes her glasses and purses her lips, finally looking over at Finn instead of me. "A month from today," she repeats.

It takes Finn a second to realize she's talking to him. "Wha– oh, yeah. That should be fine."

Krystal smiles as she fills out an appointment reminder card for Finn. Julisa studies Krystal's work over her shoulder like a doting parent, then her glance flickers to me. "And you?"

I stiffen. "Huh?"

"You need to be scheduled, or no?"

Wait– she really doesn't remember me? What's with the excruciating stares, then? "No appointment," I say quickly.

Julisa nods, gives Finn and I one last soul-piercing look, then retreats to the back without a word. Krystal bids us good evening. I'm filled with questions about Finn's intentions, but I keep quiet; the warm, red light of the sunset complements his fast talking as we make the trek back to Silverton.

•

Though Hadds and I made our appointments with Madame Julisa on nothing more than a drunken whim, neither of us backed out when the day came.

"There must be a reason you wanna do this," Hadds told me.

"Uh, I'm a psychic enthusiast," I said sarcastically.

"No one goes here without a reason." He thought about it. "Well, at least the people I've talked to have said that. So, what's your reason?"

"I don't have one."

"Bullshit."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, what's yours, then?"

"I'm scared I found my soulmate, but I fucked it up." Nowadays, I know he was talking about Austin– the guy who used Hadds when he was vulnerable, the guy he said I resembled. "It's just making me nervous, so I want to clear it up. Your turn."

I took a few seconds to think about it. "I guess... I have nothing to lose by knowing."

"So you're in it for the thrill."

"Let's go with that."

"You have no one in mind that could be your soulmate?" asked Hadds. "No exes, no clingy hook-ups..."

"Nope." At the time, I didn't consider the possibility of Finn. He was still a far-off feeling, tucked away in a dark corner of my heart.

"Apparently there's a lot of people who don't have soulmates. You could be one of those."

 _That'd be a relief_ , I remember thinking.

•

After Finn makes his fake appointment, I look up video clips of Madame Julisa back in our dorm room. Most of them are unsatisfying, painting Julisa as a mysterious oracle with a mind grounded outside this realm. The most interesting clip is from _El Corazón de Marta Blanca_ , which turns out to be a Spanish soap opera after all. I find a version with English subtitles.

"Trust in your mind," Julisa tells the protagonist– Marta, I assume– concerning a romantic struggle.

"But I don't know which of three men I love most!" Marta cries. "Please help me look inside my heart. You are 'The Soulmate Seer!'" I have to wonder who came up with that tagline.

Julisa sets her icy stare on the camera. Huge, crystal-encrusted hoop earrings sway from the on-set wind. "Marta, sometimes our hearts tell us that people feel things they don't. In our inner minds, however, we acknowledge connections, and we accept whether or not they are reciprocated. Our hearts are easily distracted. Our minds know what's real."

Marta sighs and throws her golden-bracelet adorned wrists up. She nearly smacks a large ice sculpture of a doe that's inexplicably placed behind her. "But my mind is a mess!" Okay, despite her expensive accessories, Marta's pretty relatable.

I watch the clip a couple times until I get a grip on what Julisa's saying. If what she said in a telenovela can be taken as truth, and that's actually how she determines soulmates– through unearthing the connections we feel in our minds– then does it have to do with love at all? Is what I feel for Finn just, I don't know, misplaced platonic affection?

I massage my temples, hoping to quiet the "mess" in my mind, and glance at my roommate. He's lying on his bed with headphones on, fighting the urge to fall asleep as he skims a textbook. Despite his tired eyes, the corners of his lips are slightly upturned. He always looks like he's eager for the next thing, even when he's doing the most dull activity in the world.

It can't be totally platonic– I know my feelings for Finn started budding before I went to Madame Julisa's. I still get butterflies when I think of him hitting that five-foot bong at the soccer house, and the pizza he bought on the way home but barely ate. My heart beats faster when I remember the moment he asked if he could sleep with his shirt off, knowing in that moment I felt something I'd never felt for any guy before– hell, any _one_ at all. Maybe soulmates can be based on emotions other than romance, but this connection– at least on my end– has strands of love intertwined.

Finn's phone chimes. He's instantly roused from his near-sleep and jumps into action, pulling a sweater over his shirt. "Where's the fire?" I joke.

"Non-existent, for now. I'm about to change that. Tell RA Hassan not to wait up."

"I don't think he'll be happy to hear that his resident is an arsonist."

"Well, I'm not happy that my RA has a stick up his ass, so we're even." He pulls on his sneakers.

I smile. "For real, where are you off to?"

He mumbles, "Sarita's."

"Oh, cool." I look down at my fingers. "You and Sarita are... you guys are officially dating now, right?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finn curl his top lip. "Well, technically no. We're– you're gonna laugh at me– 'mutually exclusive,'" he says, air quoting with his fingers. "Before you tell me that's a bullshit label, I already know it is."

"It is, kinda," I admit. "How'd that happen?"

"I don't even know. We both liked hooking up, but I told her I wasn't looking for a relationship. Then she suggested an alternative, and here we are." He uses the air quotes again, "'Mutually exclusive.' God, what does that even mean?"

He rubs his eyes. I resist the urge to shake his shoulders and ask if he kisses her the way he kissed me. I know I shouldn't care, it's not my life, he's not mine to criticize. But how many times have I struggled to remain apathetic about his relationships, how many times have I tried to distract myself from him with drinking and drugs and sex and sad music– how, after all of that trying, do I still manage to get hurt?

If it's not Sarita, it will be another girl. Then there will be another, and another, and every time he speaks a new name, my heart will splinter like it's the very first time. I'll keep wondering if I'm in love seconds before my chest gets torn apart by the claws of something vile, something vindictive, something more tangible than Finn and I will ever be.

Hadds texts me later saying his room is free. Before I cum, he kisses me like he means it, but I pretend it's Finn– it's not, and I know it, because Hadds's kisses are smoldering crimson and Finn's are bright streaks of blue, orange. I don't talk much after it's over and I leave with my hands in my pockets.


	30. Exposure

Finn and I are weak. As soon as we wake up to the sound of someone blasting Spanish hip-hop music from the bathroom while they shower, we complain about physical ailments.

"It's like I got hit by a truck last night," I comment.

Finn groans. "Dude, I think a truck stop got picked up by a tornado and the whole damn thing got dropped on Silverton while we were sleeping."

"I wish the tornado carried me away instead," I say, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Are we seriously going through withdrawal right now?"

"We're kind of pathetic."

"More than kind of."

"Wanna go for a run?"

"Ha, good one."

"I'm serious." I glance over at Finn. Oh geeze, he _is_ serious. "Running makes me feel good. I haven't gone in forever. It's time."

"Good. You can go."

"Alright. But you're coming." He's already out of bed and stripping out of his pajama pants with one hand as he rummages through his dresser with the other.

"Finn," I assert. "We just woke up."

"Yeah, and if I spend too long thinking about it, I won't do it. So come on, get your ass up and let's do some stretches."

Finn was on the track, swim, and soccer teams throughout high school. I quit cross country after my first meet and only played tennis during senior year. Even without taking this into consideration, it's apparent who's more athletic between the two of us: Finn's spouting all this nonsense about "avoiding muscle strain" and "proper breathing techniques" as I struggle to find my sneakers.

But even after a lot of whining on my part, we make it out the door and walk to the running trail, which winds through the woods behind campus. Finn's stride gets longer and faster as we go on. He almost makes it to the sign denoting the trail's beginning before he breaks into a jog. I follow behind, taking a few seconds to catch up.

He's the picture of perfect running form; so perfect, he looks silly. We're on a leisurely jog, not trying to impress a coach, but Finn doesn't seem to know the difference. For as screwy as he looks– and for as much as I'm embarrassed whenever we pass someone– there's a fluid beauty to the way his body cuts through the air. It's an awkward grace I've never seen before, let alone been able to capture. Envy spars with affection in my chest. I make a conscious effort to correct my posture as we dodge water-logged and muddy patches of earth.

We don't exchange many words as we make our way down the path, and when we reach an intersection with a residential street, we make a silent but mutual agreement to take a breather.

There's a small playground at the far end of the street. Finn motions toward it, breathing heavily through a smile. "I think it's working," he says as we sit on the swings. "Running is making me feel better."

"Despite wondering if my lungs are going to collapse, I think it's helping me, too," I tell him.

"So you're glad I dragged your butt out of bed?"

"Let's hold off on gratitude until we make sure I'm gonna get back without a collapsed lung."

Finn smiles. "That's what I like about you, Liam. You're a realist."

"Someone's gotta balance out your optimism."

"You think I'm an optimist? Really?"

"What, you don't?"

"Personally, I think I fluctuate between everything. Realism, optimism, pessimism..."

"Well, everyone does, don't they?" I suggest. "They all just like to use labels."

"Yeah." He pauses. "Why does everyone like labels so much?"

I shrug. "It makes it easier for people with small brains to get through life?"

Finn laughs. "Hmm, now was that realism or pessimism?"

"A healthy mix, I hope."

"I can stand behind that." Finn rocks back and forth gently. He curls his fingers around the chains suspending the rubber seat above the ground. "You know, I've been running– er, thinking, not running, though we _were_ running– I was thinking while we were running, I meant." He's talking faster than usual. "This is going to sound random, but I have to apologize."

"For?"

"That night we were at the bar when I... I asked if I could use the room." Finn stares at the sky while he talks. "I should have never done that. It was dumb. I should've asked Sarita if she had some place we could go, but I was fitting into this manly persona, because I was a freshly single guy and if I didn't hook up with someone then I wasn't truly embracing my singleness, and..." His voice dissolves into a sigh.

The way he's blundering through words is humorous, but I don't have any desire to laugh. "Are you seriously apologizing for trying to fuck someone?" I ask.

"'Trying' is the keyword," he mutters. "I didn't even succeed, and I made you sleep in Hadds and Adelis's room for no reason. And I'm sorry. Looking back, it's all stupid to me. All of it."

"I was never mad," I tell him. Heartbroken, maybe, but not mad. "Why tell me this now, though?"

"Because I was thinking about next semester." He turns to look at me. "I want you to know I'm going to be an even better roommate next time around."

"Christ," I say, smiling. "Cut the gushy stuff, will you? You have nothing to worry about."

Relief washes over Finn's face. "I know, but... shit, you're right. I don't know why I worried."

"Besides, we haven't even talked about rooming together next semester yet," I point out.

"I sort of assumed we were going to," admits Finn. "Wait, you weren't considering rooming with anyone else, were you?" I shake my head. He looks even more relieved. "Oh, good. That's good." He rises from the swing and stretches his arms into the air. "Then I guess I should do this the proper way."

I tilt my head. "'The proper way?' What do you–"

In the blink of an eye, he's down on one knee. "Liam Forecoaster, will you..." he begins, but he's cut off by my riotous laughter, and then he can't even finish the sentence because he's laughing right along with me, and then he takes off sprinting toward the trail and I follow, still laughing, unable to remember how weak I felt this morning.

•

During class, I text Finn while the professor drones on about Walt Whitman and T.S. Eliot. Apparently, before Finn's class began, he regaled waiting students with the tale of seeing Madame Julisa in the flesh.

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

no one could believe that she basically TOOK DOWN MY APPOINTMENT! THAT HAPPENED! good thing Krystal didn't know how to do shit, right?

**_Received at 4:06 PM_ **

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

wait. do you think she saw my soulmate just by looking at me? CAN SHE DO THAT?

**_Received at 4:06 PM_ **

* * *

**finnean the rooooomieeee:**

GAHHHHHH DUDE WHAT IF SHE READ MY MIIIINNNDDD! :O :O :O

**_Received at 4:06 PM_ **

* * *

We agree to head to Burns after class, messaging back and forth about how delicious the first sip of beer is going to be. Finn wins, saying it'll taste better than "Jesus's glittering semen mixed with the unmistakably sweet taste of victory."

Hadds is the only one in his dorm room. He gives Finn and I a couple Coronas– they taste exactly how Finn described– and we listen to music while he talks about Male Call.

"It's actually pretty fun," Hadds claims. Finn and I exchange skeptical looks. "I know how fuckin' weird it sounds, but it's true. I think the deeper, cosmic reason you guys got busted was so Adelis and I could remember we have killer pipes. Plus, Hassan's only a prick, like, seventy-five percent of the time."

He invites us to their show in Dynash's lounge on Friday, seeming pretty excited. It'd be cute if I could look him in the eye or find the strength to chat, but I don't feel like it. I can't stop associating him with his "come over" texts and calculated hip thrusts.

I'm buzzing by the time Adelis arrives, so it takes me a moment to realize why Hadds is treating him so gingerly: he's got a scowl on his face that could curdle fresh milk.

Adelis, I've come to realize, usually hides the way he feels if it's not exciting. If he doesn't have anything to show off– for instance, a stash of drugs or Marcello– he pulls on a mask bearing a painted-on smirk, acting like he totally _does_ have something cool going on and he's not gonna tell you about it.

But today, holy shit, he is in no mood for facades. He tosses a bag on his chair and lowers the volume on Hadds's speakers.

"You, uh, want us to leave you alone?" asks Hadds, looking concerned.

Adelis shakes his head. "Keep doing whatever you guys are doing. I'm fine."

"Convincing," Hadds says sarcastically. "Look alive, man. I rolled a fatass blunt for all of us to share."

Adelis takes a few hits, refuses to talk, then recoils to his desk. It's Finn who makes the mistake of pestering him further. "Hey, Adelis, can you hook us up with some Nine?" he inquires. "Liam and I are having withdrawals, I fucking swear."

Adelis arches an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. "Sure."

"Cool, thanks–"

"Forty dollars each."

Finn laughs. I laugh. Adelis doesn't make a sound. "Wait," Finn says after a second. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course I am," Adelis states. "What, you don't have cash?"

"Not to pay for pills from a friend."

Dear Lord, the daggers in Adelis's glare are getting sharper. "What he means is that you've never made us pay in the past," I blurt out, throwing myself into the line of fire. "Why now?"

"Because," he says simply.

The room is quiet. Finn takes a deep breath. "So what you're saying is we should ask again when you're _not_ in a piss-poor mood?"

Adelis leaps up from his chair, letting it fall to the floor with a heart-wrenching _thump_. "My piss-poor mood has nothing to do with it, Finn. If you took a second to use whatever brains you have left in your fried head, you'd remember a certain customer named Paul who falsely accused me of selling bum drugs." He balls his hands into fists. "Guess what? Word got around because of that douchebag, so now less people are coming to me for Nine. Therefore, you guys are now paying customers. End of fucking story."

"That happened forever ago," Finn interjects, not falling victim to Adelis's shitty attitude. "You'd be making us pay a hell of a lot sooner if that was the case."

"Oh, really? Well, _maybe_ I can do what I want. You ever think of that, Finnean?" Adelis is blinking rapidly like he has a twitch. He sucks air in through his teeth. "Besides, why would I give free drugs to the guy who's fucking up my relationship?"

Everyone's eyes fall on me, even Finn's. "I'm not..." I mumble. "I never, ever would try to fuck up your relationship."

Adelis is only egged on by my denial. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out that Marc texted you over break?"

"I didn't text him back–"

"Did you think I wouldn't see you walking out of Burns last night when Marc was supposedly alone in my dorm room?" He's fuming now, rage turning every inch of his face deep red. "You wanna know why I've been heated up since I walked into this room? Right before I got here, I had to drag it out of my goddamn _boyfriend_ that you were with him last night, like it was some kind of secret!"

"He and I talked. That's it."

Adelis bursts out laughing. "Yes, I know that's all you did! And that's enough, isn't it? God, it's no wonder he fucking likes you, Liam! You're an instigator and a flirt. You love the attention!"

"Love the... are you _fucking_ serious?" I exclaim, finally finding a steady voice. "Adelis, I haven't flirted with Marcello since you two started dating, not once– Jesus, listen to yourself, you sound batshit crazy!"

"Crazy? Oh, okay, let's talk about crazy." He whips around and looks straight at Hadds. "How about it, Harrison?"

Hadds grows pale. "Adelis," he says in a warning tone. "What are you–"

"We're talking crazy, Harrison, like how _crazy_ it is that you've been treating our dorm like your personal sex dungeon." My chest tightens. My body burns hot. The room's spinning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hadds murmurs, calm despite pressure.

"I wasn't gone last night," Adelis continues. Panic mounts. "I canceled my plans and climbed into to bed early, then you came in and thought I wasn't here, when I was actually under the covers. So you proceeded to use the room for sex without letting me know– no notice, no text, not even a simple sock on the door in case I walked in– _and_ you didn't tell me about it afterwards! What ever happened to honesty between roommates? Between friends?"

"That didn't happen. You're lying," Hadds retorts.

"You know damn well that I'm not. You're pathetic to even try to conceal the truth at this point," Adelis shoots back. "Weak, Harrison. I thought you were better than that."

The comment breaks Hadds's expression into jagged pieces. All his vigor falls through the cracks, yanking it toward a dark place I didn't think he contained.

Then Adelis puts his hands on his hips and turns to me. He's prepared to plunge the knife in, I can see it in his menacing smirk, but I'm not ready– no, no, _no,_ this can't be happening– not here, not now, not in front of Finn–

"Oh, and Liam?" Adelis sounds smooth, self-assured, and rife with bitterness. "I _was_ going to tell you to never speak to my boyfriend again– but since you're busy fucking Hadds, I guess I shouldn't worry about you trying to steal Marc, now should I?"

Adelis is grinning like a maniac. The rest of us are stuck in place like a bunch of forgotten wind-up toys, unmoving, silent, not looking at one another. I don't feel the hot rush of anxiety anymore. Instead, ice climbs up my skin, freezing whatever it touches, refusing to stop until every last vein in my body has gone cold.

Finn's the first to leave the room. I follow on his heels. The door to Adelis and Hadds's room slams behind me so hard, it shakes the floor, and I don't care, I can't care. Finn is upset. I made him upset. I lied to him– covered the truth, at least, and now he's mad. Mad at _me._ For the first time ever, maybe, hopefully, God, why won't he slow down–

"Finn!" He doesn't answer, just goes down the stairs. "Finn, wait–"

He sprints out of the back door of Burns, too fast for me to keep up with. I catch my breath as I reach the ground floor and look out the door. He's gone.

I sit on the stairs and bury my head in my hands until I can calm my rapid breathing, until my pulsing vision stops spinning, until I realize that for once, I didn't do anything wrong. I followed my carnal desire into a corner and Adelis had the misfortune of uncovering the truth, but he had no right to talk about it in front of anyone, not even Finn. It's not my fault Adelis has a big mouth. It's not my fault we got caught.

That's right– _none of this is my fault_. It's Finn who's being too dramatic. Why should it matter if two of his friends are fucking? Finn has no reason to be running away like this. He has nothing to run away from, only a warm solace to run _to_.

I shudder and grip my hair and remind myself that I'm finally right, I never tried to hurt my best friend. I was only biding time to keep myself sane while he continually chipped away at me–

"Liam." I peer up at Hadds. He looks haggard and he's holding a bag. "There's no way I'm staying here tonight."

I nod. We head out for Silverton.


	31. Fallout

The running tab of things I haven't told Finn is chugging through my head like a grocery store receipt, and I keep adding more and more items to the list in red ink. I don't feel bad for fucking around with Hadds, but when I put myself in Finn's position, a searing pang of guilt grips my stomach.

Hadds and I take a detour to sit in a shadowy corner of the quad. We crack open a bottle of gin he threw in his bag. I try not to cry. Hadds sees this and respects it, letting me choke the bottle's stout neck, stealing it for sips whenever a sad sound escapes my throat.

But I don't give in to tears. All I do is repeat the same four words, "he probably hates me," and wait for Hadds to say something, anything. He finally speaks when I fall back on the grass and turn my gaze to the sky. "Adelis is a piece of shit," he says. I grunt. "Adelis puts his own feelings first. Adelis likes to hurt people when he's upset." Hadds isn't talking to me, I realize. He's staring at the ground, plucking blades of grass from the earth, speaking in a robotic fashion. "Adelis doesn't care about anyone in the end. He doesn't care, and I should've known."

I sigh. "It's misplaced anger, he's mad because Marcello has a crush on me–"

"It's not about you!" Hadds cries. "Holy shit, Liam, it's _not_ about you. This is about me, and my shitty soulmate, and my dumb ass for thinking he was different, for thinking he..." Hadds takes a deep breath, but it fizzles out. Now he's the one making sad sounds. "I'm dumb for thinking he ever _admired_ me." And then we're silent again, waiting for the other to initiate the healing process. Neither of us make an effort, though, and we sit for a while.

God, how long have we been out here? An hour? Two? The moon's burning holes in my pupils, it's so damn bright. I'm drunk, but my chest still hurts. There's too many unknowns in the air. It's making me sick. Or maybe that's the gin creeping up my throat. I don't know, I don't _know_ , but I want it out. I want _everything_ out.

When Hadds rises to his feet and suggests we walk back to Silverton, a passing silhouette catches my eye. I tense up. Hadds calls out, with caution in his voice, "Finnean."

Finn stops and waits for us to approach him. He hasn't even spoken and I already know he's been drinking too. A lot, I think. As much as us, maybe more.

"Adelis went over to the apartment while I was there. To see Marcello," says Finn, wavering on the balls of his feet.

"Just now?" asks Hadds.

Finn nods. "So I had to leave. I had no choice. I couldn't be there. What's that?" He gestures to the bottle.

"Gin," Hadds states, offering it to him.

Finn takes a swig. "You guys had the same idea as me, huh." He gives it back to Hadds, avoiding eye contact. "I'm not mad at you guys, you know. Well, I was mad at first– maybe more sad than mad. I felt like I needed to get away, so I went over to the apartment to get un-sad, and now I'm... I'm fine. I mean, it's, like, sketchy. It's shady. But I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. Hadds furrows his brow.

Finn is almost smiling, but not quite. "I'm not mad."

"Still, I should've been more open with you, you're–"

" _Liam_ ," Finn interjects. "It's okay. Adelis is the only one who wants an apology."

Hadds snorts. "Too bad he's not gonna get one." I can't tell if he wants to come off as a dick or he's serious.

The three of us walk around campus, sipping gin in dark corners and empty lecture halls, steadily becoming less grim and more drunk. We don't talk about Adelis's explosion, but it hums in the background of our buzz; even the candid things that tumble out of Finn's mouth seem to have something to do with the elephant in the room, like he's making a concentrated effort to be honest in light of recent events, even when it's not asked for. He rambles on about how Sarita thinks it's weird he needs to use non-latex condoms, how she only cums when she's on top, how she sometimes wears the lingerie her ex-boyfriend gave her under everyday clothes.

Finn never goes in-depth like this. The last time he talked about his sex life was when he was crossfaded at a frat party last semester and started gushing about his love for doggy style. He's fucked up, that's why he's doing it, but at the same time, it's like he's trying to get us to open up without explicitly asking.

We're laughing over something Finn says about embarrassing moans when Hadds finally bites. "Man, I swear, I sound like a cow when I'm about to cum."

"You're not bad." The affirmation pops out like, _hey, remember how it's common knowledge that we're fucking? Nothing weird about that_! But as soon as Finn turns to me, my cheeks burn. He doesn't even say anything– he just stares with his lips parted.

Hadds rolls his eyes. "While we're lying, your moans aren't bad, either."

" _Hey_." Okay, he's _right,_ but I never claimed to sound particularly sensual.

"Let's call it even, shall we? Though if I have to name the worse 'O face' between you and I..." Hadds gives me a judgmental look. I scowl.

Finn's doubled over with laughter, holding his stomach and leaning on the front door of the art building for support. I can't stop looking at him, my best friend, the person who makes my heart ache, the one I've concealed the truth from for so long– he's laughing at the secrets and deception. He's not mad. It might be because he's drunk and I'm drunk and it's only okay for right now, but I can accept that. I can laugh along with him. We're laughing about me fucking someone else, and him fucking someone else, and the pain in my chest is finally going away, and I feel free. He knows, and he's not scared. He knows, and he's still hanging around.

We push our way into the art building to search for a bathroom. The motion-sensor lights flicker on, putting a spotlight on how fucking intoxicated I am. Finn struggles to open his eyes past a squint and narrowly avoids colliding with a wall. I giggle. He gives me _I'm watching you_ hand motions. At least we're on the same level, I think– oh, fuck him, he's gonna run into that display case.

I pull him back as he chuckles through his nose. With exaggerated movements, he slings an arm over my shoulder. "Buddy system," he mutters, then points in the distance. I grab onto his side, he pats my chest, and that's how we walk down the hall: the drunk leading the drunk, all stumbles and laughter and gin-stained smiles.

Hadds is walking a couple paces ahead, one hand skimming the wall, like he needs help to stay upright. "You know what? Adelis might've done me a favor," says Hadds. "Now I have someone to talk about Liam with." I'm about to protest, but he stops walking and turns around. "Unless that's too weird for you, Finn."

Finn unhooks himself from my shoulder and leans against a doorway. He motions for the bottle. "It _is_ weird," he admits as Hadds hands it over. "But like, not too weird. To be honest–" He takes a swig. "The weirdest part is that you two have kissed." He drinks more, then adds, "assuming you have."  
  
"Kissed?" Hadds repeats. "That's it? You don't find it weird that we've gotten into bed and–"

"Details are unnecessary," Finn says loudly, putting up his hand. "It's only weird you two have kissed because I..." He stops, looks at me. I know what he's going to say, but I feel no apprehension, only intoxication. I'm thirsting for an outpouring of honesty. "Well, it's only weird since I kissed Liam, too. Naturally."  
  
Hadds gives him this wide-eyed expression, like he can't believe Finn said that, even though it's not a big deal. It's just something that happened in the past, it's whatever– okay, my pulse needs to slow the fuck down, I'm not _that_ excited Finn's talking about it.

"Dude," Hadds states. "Eskimo brothers." They bump fists. A surge of frustration makes me want to punch Hadds in the stomach.

"Don't get it twisted, though. I was the first," Finn points out, simpering.

Hadds scoffs. "I was the last one to kiss him, you know."

"Psh, you're in second place compared to me." Finn sounds proud. Shit, it's like he's bragging. He puts his arm around my shoulders again as I laugh, fuck, all I can do is laugh, because my body is so numb and tingly at the same time that it's shutting down any other functions. Maybe this isn't really happening, maybe it's a drunk fever-dream, the lights in this hallway are so fucking blinding that it could be the sunrise streaming through the window back in Silverton.

"Whatever, I've still kissed him more." There's a competitive edge to Hadds's tone.

Finn smirks. "That can be changed." In one fast, fluid motion, he cradles my chin in his palm and starts rapidly pressing his lips against my cheek over and over until I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe, until my grin threatens to shatter my face into pieces, until Hadds physically peels Finn's body off of me like it's a joke– but Hadds's eyes don't seem amused, they're kind of aggravated. Or maybe scared. I can't tell. He's drunk, almost too drunk, just like Finn. Just like me.

Hadds keeps walking. Finn lightly bumps his hip against mine. I rub the spot he kissed and try not to smile. The muscles in my face ache in spite of numbness.

We finish the gin on Silverton's doorstep. I chuck the empty bottle into the bushes. Finn runs ahead into the stairwell, flying upwards, driven forth by a desperate need to pee. He exits the door leading onto our floor only to return a second later, panicked expression on his face. "Hassan's waiting outside the room."  
  
"Oh, God," I groan as I mash my fingers against my cheeks. "I'm too fucked up to deal with him right now."  
  
"So am I," Finn says. "But someone's gotta do it– who's the least drunk between us?"

"It's not me," I assert.

Finn shakes his head. "Not me, either." Then he tries to walk in a straight line like he's taking a field sobriety test. Every step is out of alignment. He grabs Hadds's shoulder to keep from toppling over.

Hadds shrugs Finn off. Finn loses his balance and takes a second to regain composure. "On the count of three, both of you rate your drunkenness on a scale of one to ten," says Hadds. "The roommate with the lower rating deals with Hassan. One, two, three–"

"Eight and a half," Finn and I say in unison. There's a pause before we start laughing hysterically.

"Did you just–"

"We definitely just–"

"That was like, planned–"

Hadds sighs. "I'll do most of the talking. Just try not to be too obvious, you wasted fucks."

"Easier said than done," I pipe up. Hadds glares at me. Finn's still snorting.

Hassan's got his face in a textbook with his back pressed up against our door. Oh, my God, he is un-fucking-real. I feel ashamed to have let Hephaestus get stolen by this caliber of man.

Hadds clears his throat. Hassan closes his book. "Finally back? Time for a room check– oh! Harrison! I didn't expect to see you here. Forget about tonight's Male Call practice?"

"Uh," stammers Hadds as I open the door and flick on the light. "Not exactly."

"Really?" Hassan creeps into the room and begins his all-too-typical room inspection. "Are you alright?"

Man, having Hadds to keep Hassan at bay makes this process ten times easier. Finn invites me on his bed, then grips the sleeve of my shirt as he suppresses giggles.

"Just having some personal drama," explains Hadds.

Hassan looks intrigued. "Strange, Adelis said something similar when he was late to practice today."

"What did he say?"

"I think he mentioned you, Harrison. Everything okay between the roomies?"

"Well– it'll be okay eventually," Hadds admits.

Hassan nods and switches topics to the song list for an upcoming Invitational. He picks up one of my shirts from the floor, revealing the naked tiles beneath. "Ugh, remind me to wash that shirt," I whisper to Finn, who's really struggling to stifle his laughter now.

After Hassan takes his leave, Hadds sneers. "Adelis is already talking shit, huh."

"What else is Adelis good for?" Finn quips.

"Not much." Hadds looks upset. I think it's time we all go to bed.

Since Finn and I don't have extra blankets or pillows to cushion the rock-solid floor, there's a debate on the bed situation. Finn, of course, has plenty of jokes at the ready– "I mean, you guys have _slept_ together, why can't you _sleep_ together?" But when Hadds acts compliant to the idea, Finn suggests we let the "exalted guest" have his own bed instead.

I offer my bed to Hadds and climb onto Finn's. It's like we're at his house again, only with half the space and way more toes-in-the-face action.

"Do you get pedicures?" asks Finn before he turns off the light.

"Wh– I don't."

"Oh. Your toenails are nice."

I chuckle. "How exactly are they 'nice?'"

"They're, like, glossy. Look at them."

Straining to move, I rise into a sitting position and squint at my toes. Hey, he's kind of right. "Well, goddamn."

Finn sits up and looks at his toes, too. "My nails are fucking grody. Shit, dude, I think I still have sand underneath them..."

He leans toward his feet to inspect them, and I move my head to look at them too, so when he jerks his head up suddenly, he smashes into my nose with force.

I moan in agony as Finn cries out "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" between fits of laughter. Eventually the pain subsides and we're both just laughing until Hadds interrupts us. "Are you gonna turn off the light or what?"

"Alright, alright, Mr. Drowsy," grumbles Finn as he flicks off the lamp and grabs his phone. "Liam and I are going to look up places to get pedicures while you drift off to Snoozeville."

"Tell the mayor we say hello," I add.

"Ha, ha. Goodnight," Hadds says flatly.

I lie next to Finn, head beside head. He tries to type "nail salons" into the internet search bar but his fingers can't find the right letters, so Google asks " _did you mean Nadya Suleman?_ " even though we definitely didn't, but we get sidetracked reading her Wikipedia page anyway, and then we keep clicking links until somehow we're deeply engrossed in an article about an ultra-deadly lizard in South Africa.

I'm so tired. Finn's mumbling facts about the lizard's diet and habitat and appearances in pop culture and I can't remember the thing's name. My arm is pressed against Finn's arm and my eyes keep drifting from his phone screen to his face, the angle of his cheekbones, the gentle slope of his nose.

I don't mean to fall asleep, but I sleep soundly. A pleasant smell permeates my dreams. I'm comforted. It's a feeling I've forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously apologize for the delay between chapters! I'm actually in the process of moving across the country for my new job, so updates to all of my stories might be more sporadic than usual until I get my feet on the ground.
> 
> I'm thinking of doing a Q&A soon, in case any of you have questions about me/my stories/my writing, etc. So maybe think of some questions? Idk. Am I even that interesting? (wiggly hand motion) Eeeehhh.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Your support keeps me going! I have lots in store for these characters...


	32. Defeated

"Hassan is a fucking snake."

Hadds furrows his brow and throws his bag on my mattress. It's day two of him hanging out in Silverton, and he's gotten pretty comfortable. Apparently, this means I don't own a bed anymore.

"Really? I think Hassan's more like a mosquito," comments Finn.

Hadds shakes his head. "He's definitely a snake. He put Adelis and I on a duet, even though he knows we're not on good terms."

"You think he did that on purpose? Like, to get you two to kiss and make up?" I ask.

"Without a doubt." Hadds plops down on his bed. Er, my bed. He looks so confident sitting there, perched with poise like this is _his_ room now and that's that.

"How is everything going on the roommate-fight front, anyway?" Finn's packing up his laptop for class as he speaks.

"Adelis sent me another novel-length text about how I should apologize."

"And you said..."

"Nothing. He can fuck off." Hadds's voice strikes a weird, dissonant chord. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm starting to see Adelis's point of view; the more Hadds puts off apologizing, the more childlike he becomes.

When I think about Marcello, the guy who's probably being punished for our indiscretions, sickness bubbles in my stomach. Why hasn't he ended things with Adelis yet, anyway? What is he waiting for?

I keep all discontent thoughts to myself as Finn pulls on his jacket. "Off to hell. I mean, class. Well... both." He stares back at Hadds and I. It's like he's assessing the amount of empty space in the room. "See you guys soon," he says after a moment, then leaves. I've noticed he never jokes about Hadds and I hooking up anymore.

This is the first time Hadds and I have been alone since he temporarily moved to Silverton. With that realization, I start to sweat nervously. I stare intently at my computer screen like I'm doing something important, but really, I'm just clicking random places on the desktop.

"So." Hadds glances at his fingernails. "Are we still fucking?"

An anxious wave zips through my body. "Huh? N– now?"

"I meant in general, in light of recent events." He smirks. "Although, if that's an offer..."

Hadds is a king atop my mattress, surveying me with a quiet, self-assured expression. I peer up at him and momentarily forget that we've ever had sex before.

"Uh," I splutter.

"Aw, is the spark gone now that we've been found out?" jokes Hadds. There has to be some reason I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes right now.

A knock on the door breaks Hadds's focus on me. It's Sarita– definitely better than RA Hassan, but I still feel uneasy. "Yo, Liam." Her tone is chipper, yet strained.

"Sarita," I say, confused. "Uh, Finn's at class."

"Pfft, I know. I came over to ask you something."

"Me?" I ask, putting a hand over my heart. "Well, gosh, I'm honored."

Sarita chuckles. Her hoop earrings wiggle as she moves. She always seems so put-together, she practically glows. In spite of my bitterness, I understand why Finn would want to be around her.

"Do you want to come in?"

Sarita shakes her head. "I gotta make this quick– I thought you could help me get to the bottom of something I heard from Krystal."

I should've expected this. "What's up?"

"She works at the psychic place in town. Madame Julisa's." Sarita's glow is dulling. "She said– and you can tell me if this is crazy– but she said Finn came in and made an appointment the other day."

"I think, uh, he made it as a joke. He's not planning on going."

Sarita makes a face. "Really? 'Cause Krystal said he paid half the cost up front to secure his appointment, and that's not cheap."

Blood drains from my face. I think back, but all I can recall is the tension that mounted as Julisa stared me down... while Finn was finalizing his appointment. My heart skips a beat. "Now that you mention it, I think he paid," I murmur, coming to terms with it as I tell her.

Sarita releases a stream of air through her lips. "Uh, thanks, Liam. Wow. This is… so sudden, y'know?"

"So sudden."

"Like, maybe it's just a normal session, right? Not a… like, _love_ thing."

"Yeah."

"Has he said anything about it?" I shake my head. "Okay, like– maybe tell me if he does?" I nod. "Thanks, dude. Oh, by the way, next week we're having Beer Olympics at Zeta Phi, we still need a Team Canada. Think about it?"

"I will."

"Okay. Sorry to hit and run like this, but thanks again, man." Sarita gives me a playful punch on the arm, forces a smile, and she's gone.

I turn away from the door, adrenalin pumping. He's going to Julisa for real, he might be getting his soulmate predicted– God, who am I kidding, of course he is, and then where will that leave us? How will we reconcile after the secret I've been concealing for months is spoken from the horse's mouth? Of course, that's assuming she'll come up with my name once she's buried herself in his mind, because what if soulmates vary, what if–

"Well, that's it, isn't it?"

It takes me a minute to remember Hadds is in the room. "What do you mean?" I ask.

He sighs through his teeth. "Finn is going to see Madame Julisa. You and I are done hooking up."

"That makes no sense," I say slowly, my grip on reality loose and wavering.

"God, you're naive." Hadds smiles, but he doesn't sound happy. "Finn will find out he's meant to be with you, and you'll ask him out– or I guess he'll ask _you_ out, since I can't imagine you making the first move."

His words resonate with malicious intent. "Hadds, you can't be serious. I don't know what's going to happen. He could find out someone else is his soulmate. Nothing is set in stone."

Hadds scoffs and slaps his hands on his knees. "You're right. Nothing's set in stone. So let's have sex."

He sounds condescending. "Come the fuck on," I mutter.

"What, Liam? Do you blame me for mourning the loss of my fuck buddy?"

"This isn't about you."

"Wow, now you're stealing my lines." Fuck, he's right. I can't bring myself to look at his face. "This is how it's gonna go, even if you don't want to admit it: Finn finds out you're his soulmate. You guys have a long, excruciatingly dull chat about your _feelings_. We stop having sex because you got 'the one,' your be-all-end-all, and I seethe in jealousy for the rest of my life."

"You'll be jealous of me getting my soulmate?" I cry out. "Adelis and Marcello are gonna break up any day now, and Adelis will come running to you for comfort–"

"That's not what I meant."

Hadds breathes heavily. There's fear in his expression, like he's said too much already. "What do you mean, Hadds?" I nearly whisper.

Grief glints in his eyes as he looks at me. "I like you, Liam. I have since the first time we fucked. I caught feelings, and I know I shouldn't have, but shit, you made me feel so good. I feel so good with you." My fingers are shaking. This isn't real. This isn't happening. Not now. "And maybe," he says, then breathes in deeply. "Maybe soulmates change. I think... I think if I talked to Julisa now, she would tell me I'm meant to be with you, not Adelis."

I'm motionless. Color drains from the room. Hadds wants me to reciprocate. He seems to expect it, with an almost-grin on his face and the way his eyes search mine for signs of hope– but I'm unable to give him what he's looking for. I can't fabricate emotions that don't exist in my heart. I have to break him. I have to break whatever we have, and I have to accept the decimation of what we are, were, could've been.

I can't find the words. More accurately, I can't find the _strength._ Cowardly as ever, my wordless reaction siphons hope from Hadds's eyes, and I say everything without saying a word. The beginning of Hadds's smile dissipates into a straight line. When his lips finally part again, he speaks with unmistakable clarity: "You'll never learn."

The statement takes a second to register. "W… what?"

"You'll. Never. Learn. Maybe that's what's best for you, Liam– living in a fairy tale, I mean." He gains momentum with every word until he's sitting up straight and tall again, prepping an assault, looking more like his roommate than himself. "There isn't a single part of you that wants to be with me, is that right?" I don't speak, I stand still. "There was never a kiss, a touch, a moment in bed– while we were fucking or not– that meant something deeper than a combination of friendship and horniness?"

"I didn't say that," I spit out.

"You aren't saying _anything_!" he exclaims. "And that's just it. You won't say anything because you don't want to admit that at some point during _us_ , you forgot about _Finn_."

"Hadds–"

"That scares you, because you still believe he'll decide he wants you someday! And you don't want to be fucking around with me when he finally gets his feelings in line, correct?"

"No, that's–"

"You're living a lie. He won't change his mind– hell, I realized that about Adelis a long-ass time ago, and I thought you'd gotten the fucking picture by now, but you'll never learn, you just won't–"

"Stop, I'm–"

"What, Liam?" He licks his lips and stares down at me as his fingers dig into his/my mattress one last time. "Afraid to admit that Finn is never going to love you?"

"I'm not _afraid_." I try to sound firm, but the words crumble as they leave my mouth. Hadds isn't right, he can't be right, I won't let him _be_ right.

I'm not looking at him, but I feel his eyes on me. "Then admit it," he hisses. "Right now. Say it, say you know that Finn won't ever feel the same way about you–"

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" Hadds's jaw drops and I don't know why– then I realize my body lunged toward him on its own. I've never wanted to hit someone before. I've never had the raw desire. But now, as my knuckles shake, I feel a primal rage building inside me. "Why are you acting this way? Why are you– after everything– is it just because I don't like you back? _Fuck_ you!"

"This is about admitting to the truth, Liam!"

"Okay, fine, the _truth_ is that you're being manipulative and shady and… and I should've known you would get like this!" Ideas connect as I speak. It's all pouring out on its own. "God, now I get what you've been trying to do since the beginning. You've been trying to wreck everything so that you're the only one left for me to turn to!"

"You're psychotic," Hadds shoots back.

"No, I'm just an idiot for letting this shit between you and I get so far– Jesus Christ, why did I get myself into this in the first place?" I'm talking to myself more than Hadds, and I know it. Maybe he's right, I _am_ going off the deep end– but I can't stop; I lost that ability in an unprecedented wave of anger. "I shouldn't have kissed you that night, I shouldn't have let you blow me."

"Shut up," Hadds snarls, but his voice sounds far away while my voice swallows everything whole.

"Fuck, you were right from the start, weren't you? I shouldn't have blown you either, now you're 'that guy' and I resent you for it!"

"Shut the fuck _up_ –"

"Goddammit, if you wanted the _truth,_ Hadds…" I take a breath, recognizing this is the last moment I can turn back and salvage what's left of us, but Hadds still looks ready to bite back, and I won't let him, I _won't_ – "If you wanted the truth then I should have told you about how I imagined someone else when you and I were fucking– maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation if I'd told you about the time I thought about Finn during sex–"

Hadds slams his fist against the wall. I inhale reflexively. Something snaps in the air, slicing the space between us into cold, disparate halves. The silence carries weight: this is Hadds's way of admitting defeat.

I feel the first pangs of regret as he gathers his things and walks to the door. Apologies spark on my tongue, a garbled noise leaves my mouth, but he speaks first. "'Fuck me because you want me, not because you can't have someone else.' Wasn't that what you said?" He chuckles bitterly. "Man, I'm stupid for thinking you'd take your own advice." I swallow hard as he pushes his way into the hall and almost knocks over a concerned-looking RA Hassan.

"Is everything alright?" asks Hassan, barely peeking into the doorway. "There was a noise–"

"It's fine," I say loud enough for Hadds to hear as he barrels down the hallway.

"Alrighty." Hassan idles by the door. I don't look at him. "Mind if I, uh– I'm going to do a room check now."

Hassan scuttles throughout my dorm, anxious tension in his strides. I sit on Finn's bed and wait to be alone, refusing to let my gaze stray from where Hadds was sitting. I never struck him, but the buzz beneath my skin makes me feel as though I drew blood. His silhouette seems to linger on my mattress like a chalk outline, smoldering with a burnt crimson glow.

•

The first time I really spoke to Hadds, he was wearing a short-sleeved button down shirt over salmon-colored shorts with flip flops. I can't see him wearing anything like that anymore; something about it advertised a level of preppiness that he no longer contains.

During orientation, his group mixed with mine for ice breaker games and walking tours. It was impossible to ignore his existence: Hadds oozed devious charisma. He was the kind of guy who'd sell Ferraris in Beverly Hills, and you'd find him charming until you realized he was only complimenting your shoes to earn his commission.

I didn't have to talk directly to Hadds to find out a few of his most-loved phrases, which were often audible over all other conversations: "this guy/girl I hooked up with"; "one time I was _so_ hammered"; "fuck, I wish I wasn't sober for this." While Adelis's mere presence intimidated me, it was Hadds's long list of sins that made me feel inferior.

Fate intervened on the day he wore his short-sleeved button down shirt and salmon shorts. After an afternoon spent exploring town under the watchful eye of Orientation Leaders, I stopped at my room to drop things off, then took a wrong turn toward the dining hall. Too awkward to ask for directions, I looped around and around the same stretch of brick buildings until hunger trumped social anxiety. Luckily, as I rounded the same corner for the tenth time, I found Hadds. He was carrying a large plastic bag.

"Hey, uh– Harrison?" The first and only time I called him that in earnest. "Are you going to Cabulroy? Like, the dining hall?"

When he looked over at me, fear flashed in his eyes before it registered that I wasn't an Orientation Leader. He smirked. "Yo, yeah. Just gotta run to my room quick."

"Oh. This is going to sound dumb, but can you tell me where Cabulroy is?"

Hadds laughed. "Follow me. The dorm I'm in is right next to Cabs. Can't miss it."

As we made small talk, I noticed that he kept sticking his hand in the bag to fiddle with its contents. About halfway to Cabs, the bag's bottom gave way, and I missed most of dinner to help him smuggle two bottles of wine into his room.

"You are a lifesaver," he told me. "A _fucking_ lifesaver. What's your name?"

I blinked. After all the stupid ice breaker games we played together, he still didn't know who I was? "Liam."

" _Liam_. Liam, thank you, and for the love of God, don't snitch."

"I won't."

"If you keep your word, I'll buy you anything you want from the liquor store when school starts. For real."

"You don't have to–"

"I'll give you my number. Text me when you get moved in. First weekend, we'll go hard, my treat– _as long as you don't snitch_. Cool?"

I snorted. "Cool, but I wouldn't have snitched either way." After he filled out his contact info in my phone, I squinted at the name. "'Hadds?'"

"Short for Harrison Adds," he explained. "Never liked my name, so I'm trying to make _Hadds_ a thing. How's it sound?"

"Good," I lied, and later changed his contact name to 'Harrison Adds' to make him easier to find in my tidy, alphabetical, all-last-names-included phone book. Eventually the nickname grew on me, and I stopped being anal about my dumb phone book, and the smooth-talking guy who bought me raspberry vodka during the first weekend of school started to change: he became less smarmy and more real.

I know that Hadds is still changing. Learning. Becoming less of what other people want him to be. And for that reason alone, he's stronger than I am. For that, I think I'll always wonder what could have been, if it's what _should_ have been, and whether or not I'll ever be able to rid my mouth of the first taste of his skin.


	33. Lost and Found

Two hours and five shots later, I realize why I blew up at Hadds in a way that I've never blown up before: That asshole was trying to take away my hope.

_Admit Finn will never love you_ , he said. Yeah-fucking-right. That's giving up, losing the game, killing my will to keep fighting. There, I figured it out, now I can stop thinking about it. Right?

Marcello bought me everything I wanted from the liquor store just because I used a bunch of smiley faces in a desperate text and promised to be his partner for the Beer Olympics. I'll probably be banned from attending anyway if Finn tells Sarita who his real soulmate is– assuming he's actually my soulmate after all– well, shit, if that's true then I had no reason to ever worry about anything, because everything's supposed to work out no matter what–

What am I thinking? What am I _thinking_?

I'm lost, I think. One time Adelis told me he took this shortcut into town, or maybe it was Hadds, I don't know, but I never tried taking it until right now while I'm five shots deep and hiding a liquor bottle in my sweatshirt, only drinking under the shadows of pine trees or when I think about my ex-best-friend whose sole offense was trying to love me the wrong way.

Shit.

I down a third of a shot (by my rough calculations) and add it to my running total. Five-and-a-third shots down. Fuck, I'm lost.

So _what_ if Hadds likes me? There's no rulebook that says I have to like the first guy who's ever blown me. Or who I've ever blown. Or who ever had good, fulfilling sex with me. Nope, no rules about that.

I down the next two-thirds of a shot. Six. I'm up to six shots.

I lower the bottle with a grimace and stare off at the horizon. The sun's almost completely obscured by the mountains. There's still time to get where I'm going. Should be at least. I should've brought my phone with me. What was I thinking? Oh, yeah– I wasn't.

I down another third-of-a-shot. It turns into a half pretty quickly. So _what_? I'll drink more, dammit, and I won't keep count anymore.

I guess I should've told Hadds the truth. I should've said that for a little while– a fraction of a second, maybe a minute's worth of my existence– I considered him as a possibility. I think about the night he kissed me in front of his old hook-up at the bar and the passionate sex in his bed. I think about how I couldn't help smiling after we started our casual _whatever-the-fuck-it-was._ I tried to shrug the feelings off, thinking we'd never risk our soulmates for each other. Turns out I was the only one not allowing feelings to blossom. Fuck, I really think Finn might decide he'll want me someday– why does that wording sound so familiar– _you still believe he'll decide he wants you someday_ –

Christ, I need to sit down.

There's nothing to sit on except dry grass and leaves and prickly sticks but I can't feel shit anyway; I drink a little more just to make sure I can't.

Finn is holding me back, isn't he? He never means to, but he is. He's always feeding me these meaningless smiles and ambiguous lines that make me think _maybe maybe maybe_ and I keep thinking _maybe maybe maybe_ from the moment I wake up until the moment I sleep.

I bet I'm totally alone in this thicket of trees. I could scream right now and no one would hear. I could scream to the world that _I fucked up a chance at a relationship with my best friend because I was waiting for something that'll never happen_ and no one would know I felt that way, but it would be out in the open and not bursting into flames inside my head, oh my God, I'm so hot, I'm burning up, I'm going to die. I'm going to _die_.

No, no, I'm not. I'm going to be fine, because death would be the simplest way to get relief from this cocktail of guilt/anger/frustration and clearly _nothing_ can be simple for me. Speaking of cocktails, I wonder if I can kill this bottle before I make it into town. Bet I could.

It's not a big bottle. I swirl the amber-colored contents around. There's about a fourth left. Or a sixth. Maybe an eighth and a half. Is that a measurement? Fuck it. Doesn't matter. I'm gonna down it all anyway.

Halfway through chugging, I gag. The lingering taste makes me rethink my decision. Why am I doing this? I shouldn't do this, right? I've never drank a whole bottle of liquor on my own. I usually have someone to help me. Usually Finn or Hadds. They're always with me. Well, not so much Hadds, now. Probably not Finn either, assuming he gets scared away.

Maybe I should get used to this– drinking alone until I'm sick. At least it'll be comforting. I can throw up and feel fine, just like the old days when I did it, no alcohol involved. This time though, it'll be even better. More fulfilling. I'll be drunk enough to ignore the way my stomach churns, the splashes of vomit on my face, the pain from clawing at my throat. I'll be drunk enough to be alone.

I'm alone.

Dammit, I'm so _fucking_ alone.

I drain the bottle without another thought. I barely taste anything at all. _Oh, God,_ the back of my mind shouts as my surroundings spin and spin and spin. _I fucked up._

_•_

It's last year again. I'm lying in a hospital bed listening to the rhythmic beeps of a machine harmonizing with _Space Jam_ on TV. Ava's sitting next to me… no, she's strewn across the bed, arms cradling her head. The sound of her breathing comforts me. Why? I don't even know her.

Maybe I'm aching for something familiar due to the stiffness of the bed or the sterility suffocating the air, or maybe comfort seeps from her pores, stemming from the tiny pieces of Finn that have burrowed under her skin over the years. She even looks like him a little…

Suddenly, Ava turns her head to smile at me. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty." My heart leaps into my throat. I blink to clear my vision. It's not Ava at all, it's _Finn_ , it's actually Finn, which means–

"Damn, I'm glad you're awake." I struggle to take a deep breath as Finn stretches. "Bill Murray's about to join the Tune Squad, and that's like, a classic part of _Space Jam_."

"What happened to me?" My voice is water-logged.

Finn's smile fades. "I'm guessing you don't remember anything about last night, huh."

I try to think of anything past my breakdown in the trees, but there's a hole in my mind, like someone cut out a chunk of my memories. Emptiness grips me. I shake my head.

"Might be for the best," comments Finn. "You were kind of a mess. Not anything I couldn't handle, of course, but Marcello…"

"Marcello was there?" I gurgle.

Finn smiles sympathetically. "Want me to fill you in on last night's events?"

"Yes and no." I sit up in bed. My body aches.

"It's not that bad."

"Seriously?"

Finn cringes. "Er, I guess what I meant to say was: it could've been worse."

What he really meant was that the night _couldn't_ have been worse, but with his jaunty tone, he may as well have been telling the story like a fairy tale:

_Once upon a time, there was a very drunk boy named Liam. He drank an entire bottle of something terribly alcoholic and stumbled into town. His best-friend-slash-roommate, Sir Finnean, had no idea of the young Liam's plight until he received a text message from the fair maiden Krystal, who announced to Sir Finnean that his best-friend-slash-roommate had appeared at her place of work and began to weep uncontrollably with no explanation._

_Krystal and the seer she worked for, Julisa the Life Ruiner, were poised to call the cops– luckily, Sir Finnean alerted the only person he knew who had a car in the kingdom, Marcello Of The Round Table, just in time. The chivalrous duo reported to the seer's dwelling place on the double, scooped up their highly intoxicated and miserable friend, then watched him cry/puke/snot all over Marcello's bathroom._

_This distasteful behavior continued until the newly-crowned Liam The Drunk's eyes rolled to the back of his head and Marcello Of The Round Table (forcefully) insisted to drive him to the Emergency Room. The end._

"You were actually okay," Finn tells me cheerily. "The doctors said you would've been fine if you hadn't come in. You didn't even have to get your stomach pumped." He says it as though this fact should make everything better. Instead, I'm staring at _Space Jam_ with my mouth hanging open, trying to concentrate on Bugs Bunny's locker room speech rather than my shame.

"I hate myself," I squeak.

"No, no, no," Finn murmurs, his eyes wide and pained. "No, don't say that. It's all fine, Liam, really." The hand he placed on my leg twitches. I look down and gasp– his thumb is in a huge splint.

"Your thumb– what– are you okay?" I ask.

Finn withdraws his hand like my leg is white-hot. "Nothing," he says. "Uhm, well, nothing that sticks out in my mind. I was actually kind of drunk when Marcello and I picked you up." He looks sheepish. "Marcello was the one who noticed my thumb was wonky, and then he made me check into the ER, too."

"Jesus," I exhale. "You didn't black out, did you?"

"Not exactly. I just kind of… started drinking too early on an empty stomach." I want to make a joke relating Finn's situation to mine, but nothing seems appropriate. When he sees me study his expression, he gets nervous. "But I'm fine now!" he blurts out. "I'm not even in a lot of pain. Nothing a few beers can't fix– oh, well, you might want to take it easy for a few days, so I'll abstain– but let's talk about something else, okay? Like… like how weird it was you stumbled to Madame Julisa's, right?"

_It wasn't weird_ , I want to say. _It was my plan all along. I was going to ask Julisa whether or not soulmates can change. Alcohol was involved so I could endure her answer._

"Hadds," I splutter. "Hadds and I… God, this is gonna sound so dumb, but we got in a huge argument."

Finn's lips part. "Over what?"

"Over the fact that he has a thing for me." I wince.

He covers his mouth. "No-fucking-way! I totally knew it! Remember that one party over break, when I was all, ' _Hadds likes you'_? Damn, I'm good."

"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes," I say sarcastically.

Finn adjusts an invisible monocle. "So, uh," he mutters, then looks away. "After he poured his heart out, you told him… what, exactly?"

"What do you think?"

He pauses. "Uh. No?" I nod vigorously. "Oh, of course. I don't even know why I doubted it– continue."

"We got in a big, shitty fight. He stormed out, and then I decided to drink my feelings."

"And here we are?"

"And here we are." I pull the bed sheet up to my chin and sigh. "Fuck, I'm the worst."

"No, you're not," says Finn.

"I am," I assert, rubbing my shoulder. "I said a lot of mean shit to Hadds, stuff I shouldn't have said, and then I was stupid enough to drink my way into the hospital. I'm sorry you even have to be here right now with my dumb ass, Finn. Someday I won't be the worst roommate ever–"

" _Stop_ ," Finn says it with such conviction, I jump. "Sorry, that was strong, but… I don't ever want to hear you say these things about yourself, okay?"

"What's with the serious tone?" I murmur.

He puts his hand on my leg again. Intensity bleeds through his eyes. "You… you said something last night that scared me a lot. While you were throwing up…" He pauses. My stomach churns. Without remembering a damn word I said to him, I still know.

"You said you didn't mind puking so much because–" He lowers his voice. "Because you used to make yourself puke just to do it. Just to _hurt_ yourself." His voice shatters as he talks. Listening to him speak is agony. "Is that true, Liam?"

I want to tear at my skin and scream about how horrible I am, but I can tell that any negative word out of my mouth will break Finn. He's becoming fragile before my eyes.

I could lie like I always used to. I could build another wall to shield the truth from my most infallible friend. But I can't– no, it's not that I can't, it's that I don't want to. I trust Finn. I need him, and I need him to know the truth.

"Yes." Relief hits me as soon as the word leaves as a whisper. Finn tilts his head toward the ceiling and curls his fingers into his palm as though he's trying to contain an emotion that's foreign to him.

"That's all in the past," I tell him quietly. "I let myself be so unhappy for so long that I eventually became numb. I hurt myself so I could feel something again."

" _Christ_."

"I'm okay now. I am. That's not me anymore, Finn. I'm not… trust me, I'm different."

He keeps shaking his head and won't stop. "It doesn't matter when it happened, you… shit, I'm gonna be honest, I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop because I want the best for you, goddammit. I want you to know you're fucking worth something." He hesitates. "You already know this, but fuck, I love you, Liam. I _love_ you." His eyes pierce mine. I feel miles away.

It was a friendly _I love you_ and I know it. I can think of cheeky _I love yous_ shouted at me when I leave to go to class, and a thousand drunken _I love yous_ repeated after one shot too many. There's been some serious _I love you_ s too, like whenever Finn left to spend a weekend at Ava's, or when we parted ways for break. And even though I know this is just another friendly _I love you,_ it settles in the air with a sense of urgency. I listen to the echoes of this new _I love you_ bounce off the white walls. I let it inside me, I allow it to fill the empty spaces in my chest.

"I love you, too," I say to Finn.

The tension in his shoulders disappears. "Then promise you'll tell me the next time you feel shitty about yourself."

"Alright."

" _Promise_."

"I promise," I say. "As long as you help me figure out how to tell my parents why this is my second trip to the hospital in a single school year."

"I can think of a few excuses," Finn replies. He offers his undamaged hand for a deal-sealing shake. We smile at each other. He was right, in a way. The night could have gone worse.

•

When we're quiet, I find myself counting everything that's wrong with the moment: the faint smell of vomit wafting through the room, the moans of the woman across the hall, the way the TV's turned just far enough that Finn gets tired of craning his neck to watch _Space Jam_ and crawls into the tiny bed with me despite my protests. My body's revolting against itself, the beeps and creaks of the hospital pulse with anxiety, but I feel calm, complete.

"Here it is," mumbles Finn. His eyes are half-closed and his head is gravitating toward my shoulder.

"Here's what?"

He points lazily at the TV. "My favorite part as a kid. You remember this? It's when Michael Jordan realizes he can use the power of whacked-out cartoon physics to win the basketball game. And he stretches really, really, really far until he makes the basket, like this…" Finn demonstrates, extending his arm in front of him as he grunts.

"Geeze, don't hurt yourself."

He drops his arm. "I kind of wanted to see if it would work." I snort and peer over at him. He's got this weird look in his eye– God, he _actually_ looks disappointed.

With a shrug, I reach forward, ignoring the ache of my muscles. Finn's eyes light up and he starts stretching with me. We grunt and groan until we can't be serious anymore, then we burst out laughing and let our arms fall back to the bed. Finn's hand– the one with the injured thumb– rests on the crevice where my leg ends and his begins.

There's so much wrong with this moment, and yet I've never felt like this before. I don't know how to explain it, but the emotion runs deeper than anything I've ever experienced. It's love, I think, manifesting itself in imperfections; it's love in a form that's too enormous for me to understand.


	34. Dependence

If you'd asked me last fall to predict the end of freshman year, I'd probably say,  _it'll be Finn, Hadds, Adelis, and I on a quest against sobriety; the perfect end to two semesters of watching our friendship blossom into a lifelong connection._

But now, in the weeks before finals, my naive predictions leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Neither Hadds nor Adelis have spoken to me since making messy exits from my life. I've been sober since my night in the ER, and the prospect of getting alcohol and/or drugs before the end of the semester is looking bleak considering Hassan's room checks have doubled in frequency.

"It's like he  _knows_ we need a stress release," groans Finn after a thorough inspection. "He acts like he hasn't so much as taken a hit at a Male Call party before. Those guys are notorious druggies."

"Makes sense. I mean, they've got kingpin Adelis on their side," I point out.

"I bet Hassan's a secret Nine addict."

"Kinda like us?"

Finn scrunches up his face and rummages through his dresser for workout clothes. We've gotten in the habit of going for runs whenever one of us feels off; at first it was simply to ward off the hit-by-a-truck sensation, but I've come to enjoy exercising with Finn. It's calming in a way I've forgotten.

As we make our way to the trail, Finn pauses to examine a colorful flyer that's stapled to the bulletin board outside our hall. " _'Male Call's final performance of the year,_ '" Finn recites in a mocking tone. "' _Don't miss your last chance to see the coolest guys with the hottest pipes!'_ Oh, Lord, who writes copy for them and why haven't they jumped off a bridge yet?" He turns to me. "Want me to rip this down?"

"God, Finn, I didn't take you for a petty asshole," I say between chuckles.

"C'mooon," he draws out. "Adelis bitched you out for no reason and Hadds is mad at you just 'cause he can't get what he wants. Some petty revenge is warranted."

I refrain from clarifying that I lead Hadds on before shitting on his feelings, and I let Finn tear down the flyer. Finn raises his right hand first, remembers his thumb injury, and quickly switches hands to tear the paper off.

My gaze follows Finn's damaged thumb as he retracts his arm. I can't get used to the sight of his splint. The thing seems like a trick of the eye, exposing weakness where it doesn't exist. It doesn't suit Finn. It's not him.

Finn knows this. He hasn't spoken about the injury since the night it happened and seems to constantly forget he's hurt. The first time he acknowledges its existence is when he's about to head over to Sarita's after our run.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself as he stands beside his dresser.

I peer over at him from my desk. He's fumbling with a pink button-down shirt. "Everything alright?"

"Peachy."

"Need help?"

"No, no, I'm just too lazy to find a top without all these goddamn buttons, I'll…" Finn opens a dresser drawer and sighs. "Nevermind, all my t-shirts are in the laundry that I'm also too lazy to do." His face flushes. "Can you, uh, possibly give me a hand?"

He looks out the window as I button his shirt. I make quick work of it since he seems embarrassed that I have to help him.

I leave the top button undone, as per his usual style. "All set," I announce.

"Thanks. Sorry I'm an invalid."

"Such a burden," I joke. "It's fine, Finn. But you're the only person I'll willingly do that for, I hope you know– Man, I still can't believe you don't remember how you fucked up your thumb. You must've been a special kind of wasted."

He flashes me a smile. "'A special kind of wasted.' I like the way that sounds."

Left alone in the room after Finn heads to Sarita's, I turn to social media to check up on my ex-pals. Adelis posted a selfie… another selfie… and an over-saturated picture where he's kissing Marcello. Ugh, it's like I can feel Marcello's uneasiness seeping out of the photo. Next.

Hadds has a greater text-to-picture ratio, spouting a constant stream of smarmy remarks and song lyrics. We get it, you listen to good music– shit, wait, did that lo-fi band he showed me finally release an LP?

I get lost searching through Bandcamp until Finn comes back, expression contorted with bewilderment. The scent of weed follows him into the room.

"Well, that was weird." Finn speaks in an even tone, his good hand fidgeting with his undone button. I sit across from him on the floor as he talks about how Sarita said she was simply  _too busy_ to see him anymore. With his eyes pointed at the ceiling, he describes how she acted like she was doing him a favor.

"Like, it's funny," Finn goes on to explain. "I was gonna stop talking to her after finals and let the whole thing fizzle out during summer. But she… shit, man. She wanted to end things  _in person_. What the fuck did she think we were, y'know? She must've thought we were, like,  _going_  somewhere."

"Why would she think that?" I ask. "You guys seemed pretty casual."

"Hell if I know. She had to have known she was a rebound from Ava." Finn blinks. "Wow, that sounds shitty when I say it out loud… but it's true, she was a rebound!" He stands up to stretch. The pink shirt hikes up, revealing bare skin above his belt. "Anyway, that's over with. God, she was acting so weird, though. She kept biting her tongue to keep from smiling, then got all buddy-buddy with me like we'd been friends since birth. It would've been real fucking shady if she didn't let me hit her bong on the way out. Which I did. Oh, man, is it as hot as boiling ballsacks in this room or what?" He fans himself with his hand. "It's like… like… nuts on a George Foreman grill in here."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," I agree, smirking.

Finn starts to fool with the buttons on his shirt. After watching him get one undone with some effort, I take a bathroom break thinking he's got this; however, when I return, he's still working on the second button.

"I'm not going to lie," says Finn. "I'm both injured and a little high right now, so taking off this sweaty-ass shirt is a hundred times harder than it should be."

I chuckle and cross my arms. "So you're saying you need my help again."

"Maaaybe."

"And when do I start getting paid for this work?"

Finn gasps, feigning indignation. "This is not work! It's a labor of love."

" _Slave_ labor of love."

"Touché, mon amie." He cracks a grin like he's impressed he remembered a morsel of the French language. I can't help but smile back.

Fading sunlight trickles in between the blinds, casting a bright stripe on Finn's chest. I bring my hands to the buttons. When my fingers grasp the fabric, I instantly realize that dressing and undressing Finn are two very different things. Uncovering his skin bleeds intimacy we've never shared, and suddenly, my hands are shaking. Fuck, maybe he'd be better off doing this himself after all.

Finn's watching me struggle– his gaze is piercing– but he says nothing about my trembling hands. I sneak a glance at him, curious as to why he's not teasing me for taking so long to do something so simple. In that brief glimpse, I see parted lips and red-tipped cheeks; then his wide, mesmerized stare flickers from my hands to my eyes. I feel our split second of eye contact resonate in my chest long after I look away.

He must have gotten higher than I thought. Right? Oh, man, it's really warm in here.

I ignore the glistening of his sweat-stained skin and make quick work of the rest of the buttons, then help him shimmy out of the sleeves. "Free at last," I announce.

Finn says nothing. He just smiles, nods, and tosses the shirt into his overflowing hamper. I watch him and wait for my heartbeat to slow down, wondering if he's doing the same.

•

In true Finn style, he makes every possible effort to seem unfazed by his recent "breakup." This time around, though, he doesn't have a constant supply of drugs and alcohol to keep his mood even-keel; instead, he's started to take to me.

We go for runs in the morning and walks in the afternoon to "balance out our exercise" with milkshakes or greasy diner food. Evenings that Finn typically spent at Sarita's have turned into movie nights on my bed, laptop propped up on textbooks and a bag of microwavable popcorn to share.

He thinks he's clingy. Every offer to hang out is prefaced with "if you're not busy" and "only if you want to". We're always together, an opportunity which would have made me melt a month ago. But the more time we spend together, the more flaws I see in him: He talks over important details in movies, he slams doors by "accident," and he always takes a sip of his milkshake before realizing he wanted whatever flavor I ordered instead.

And he never fucking does his laundry. It's been a week since he ran out of t-shirts, yet he hasn't washed a single one. "I'll get around to it," he keeps saying, but I still end up buttoning and unbuttoning his shirts every day. Each time I steal a glance at his fixated expression; each time, unnamed tension mounts between us.

•

Marcello is more chipper than I've seen him in months. He's wearing a hockey jersey with the name DATSYUK on the back and tight, red pants as he totes a thirty rack of Molson Canadian to the sorority house. After completely forgetting about the Beer Olympics until two hours ago, I'm dressed in a considerably less theatrical manner (Finn drew the Tim Horton's logo on a piece of paper and taped it to my shirt).

Adelis, apparently, is at an a capella invitational with Male Call until tomorrow; I know he would've blown me out of the water with a spectacularly Canadian outfit, but I have a feeling Marcello would rather go with me, no matter how badly dressed I am.

"You had a crazy night, huh?" he jokes. "I'm sure you don't remember it, but I was driving, like, eighty miles per hour in a fifty-five zone to get you to the ER."

"Appreciate it."

"You were pretty fucked up," Marcello tells me like I don't already know. "Krystal's eyes were buggin' out of her face when we came to get you. Why'd you end up at Julisa's, anyway?"

"Drunk me does some weird things," I say with a shrug. Marcello smiles and looks away.

The Zeta Phi house is abuzz inside and out. Bass radiating from the basement shakes the beer pong tables in the backyard. Sarita greets both Marcello and I with big hugs, though mine seems longer than his. She's all smiles as she asks me how I'm doing. I guess I expected her to be mopey since ending things with Finn, but then again, why should she be? She's single, gorgeous, and kicking ass in the Beer Olympics for Team France. She exudes sensuality in a strapless, tricolor one-piece bathing suit, and even adds sex appeal to her blue beret.

I'm losing our fifth round of beer pong in a row when I realize Sarita's been hovering near Marcello and I for the last three games. She's always talking to someone, sure, but her gaze keeps meeting mine seconds before I make a shot. Jesus, maybe it's a scare tactic. Though I don't know why Team France– who's been in first place this whole time– would want to intimidate Team Canada, decided losers.

Even though we're terrible at every event of the Beer Olympics, Marcello's cracking jokes, bursting with excitement, and won't stop smiling. I just assume he's on Nine up until he asks if I want to get kissed with him.

We walk to the edge of the yard and sit on the stone wall separating Zeta Phi from the Basketball house. "You haven't had liquor tonight, have you?" he asks as he unfurls a bag of pills.

"No liquor. Just maple leaf water." Marcello looks at me, confused. "Molsons." He still seems puzzled. "Uh, it's a joke, because cheap beer is like water, and there's a maple leaf on the can…"

"Oh… yeah. That's funny." He chuckles and dispenses half a pill into my hand. "Bottoms up!" We toast with our beer cans. The pill feels cumbersome as it barrels down my throat, but the aftertaste is overwhelmingly nostalgic. I close my eyes and breathe, the purely psychosomatic beginnings of the high filling my chest.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? Since you've gotten kissed?"

I open my eyes. Marcello's staring intently at me. "It's been  _forever_."

"I know. Same here, actually." I want to ask why, but someone yells for LAST PLACERS, TEAM CANADA and we re-enter the fray for another poor attempt at a drinking game.

•

Finn and I are detoxing. We run every day. We hardly drink, smoke, or take pills. We are becoming healthy and fit and happy and sometimes we drink milkshakes or eat two burgers a day but we're still almost always sober. Almost. Always. Sober.

And that's why, I guess, this Nine is hitting me so fucking hard. Being kissed feels good– no, it feels incredible. It even helped me win a game of flip cup for Team Canada. I think. Did we win? Or did I just wish for us to win so hard that I imagined it?

"Nice job, man." Marcello fist bumps me. We must've won– wow, he's got big hands. Has he always had such big hands? And has he always looked so good in his hockey jersey and tight pants?

Marcello's hot, he really, really is. I suddenly don't regret my first time with him. Wait, does it count as a first time if neither of us got off? Hadds seemed to believe so.

 _Hadds_. Ugh. What an asshole. No, no, no, not gonna let those thoughts in. Not right now.

Marcello takes my hand and Hadds disappears from my mind. He leads me to the place where we took Nine earlier, but it's darker than I remember. We sit on the wall and laugh about something, I don't know what exactly, but he's laughing so I'm laughing. His leg grazes mine. His fingers grip my knee. He looks happy and sad at the same time.

"Liam, I have to tell you something."

"What?" It feels like my voice isn't my own, like it's creeping up from the basement.

"You don't talk to Adelis much anymore, do you?" I shake my head vigorously. "At all?"

"Nope. He's donezo."

"That's what I thought." He's so nervous. How is that possible? He's on drugs. "We broke up. I broke up with him. Just recently, actually."

"Wow!" I exclaim. That's the only thing that will come out, a strong  _wow._  Marcello laughs. I scramble to find more words, better words. "That's bad. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a long time coming."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I've known. For a while." Marcello doesn't get what I mean, and he never really does, but I don't feel like explaining. "How are you doing?"

"It was a long time coming," he repeats.

"Is that why you invited me here?" Probably an inappropriate comment, but hey, I have a right to know.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean," I say, then pause. I'm not even sure where I'm going with this. Man, his pants are  _so red_. "Did you bring me here to mack on me?"

Marcello laughs, then I laugh even though I was totally serious, and then he kisses me. "Kinda."

"Kinda," I echo, then he kisses me again, and again, and it feels so good, and my mind is exploding, and all I taste is pale yellow in his mouth, and it keeps warping and twisting but stays pale and dull, and I want it to stop but I want to keep kissing him and I don't know how to make myself feel better about this.

"Do you want to leave?" he asks between kisses. "We can go to my place."

"Sure," I say before I can think about it. Sure, sure, sure. I'll say sure to anything right now, just don't ask me again tomorrow. "I'm gonna grab a beer for the road."

He smiles and says he'll wait. He's gripping the stone wall like he's going to fall off, and I'm half afraid he'll fall too, so I run toward the house and into the basement where the last of our beers are. The thump-thump-thumping of the bass is terrifying and I want to be out as quickly as possible, but I nearly collide with a couple of giggling girls and they're so apologetic… and oh God, it's Sarita and Krystal. I don't realize it until I've accidentally started a conversation with them that I haven't been paying attention to at all.

Krystal's on Team Australia judging by her Indiana Jones get-up. Her cheap, Halloween costume whip brushes against her forehead as she pushes hair out of her eyes. "I mean, we all  _knew_ in a way, you know?"

Well, I definitely zoned out on an important part of this discussion. "Huh?" I ask.

Krystal shrieks with laughter as Sarita rolls her eyes. "Ignore her, she's fucked up," Sarita informs me. "Aren't you, Krystal?"

"You are too, you bitch!" Krystal pushes Sarita. "I'm just saying, it's like, he never seemed  _that_ into her, you know? And if you're a guy who's not into this hot piece of ass, then, like, you  _must_  not be into girls, right?"

"Yeah." Wait. Something tells me I should  _not_  have agreed with that. "Wait, I shouldn't have agreed with that. What are you saying, exactly?"

Krystal crosses her arms. "Oh my God, don't tell me you forgot! I'm talking about what you said when you busted into my work and scared me to death–"

"Krystal," Sarita interjects. "He probably knows everything he did by now."

"If it's about the other day when I was drunk out of my mind, then no, I don't," I say.

"Oh," mumbles Sarita.

"Oh," murmurs Krystal.

"Oh!" I toss back at them.

"Well," Krystal continues cautiously. "That's probably a good thing. No hard feelings and stuff, but like, don't do it again. For real." She giggles and excuses herself to get a drink or talk to someone or do something I don't care about.

"Uhm," says Sarita. "She was rattled by the whole thing, I think."

"Understandable." I don't know how Sarita looks good in a beret but wow, wow, wow, she looks good. Why is she so hot right now?

"But you could've told me about Finn. I would've been okay with it." I'm still staring at her beret and I think she just noticed. "Like, the soulmate thing? You could've told me."

"I did. I told you he made an appointment with Julisa," I say, eyes finally snapping to her face. Geeze, she looks tense.

"Not that."

"Then what?"

Sarita grimaces. "Krystal said that you said– don't tell anyone she told me this, she could get fired– you said Julisa made a mistake about your soulmate. That Finn was your soulmate but, like, he  _couldn't_  be." Okay, I officially want to die. Sarita looks as embarrassed as I feel, which is weird, because I'm ashamed enough to smash the closest beer bottle and use it to commit seppuku on the spot. "But you could've told me, y'know? Like, I never wanted to  _date_ him, but he acted like he was really fucking lonely, like he needed someone. So I felt bad enough to stay 'with' him. Feel me?" Sarita pauses like she expects me to answer, but I don't know how to talk. I think I lost the ability. Suddenly she starts talking fast. "But after next week, you guys are totally gonna date, right? Like, he might be going to Julisa for a soulmate consultation! And he'll find out he should be with you, and you guys'll get together, and it'll be okay that I broke things off 'cause he won't be a lonely wreck–"

"Hey!" Marcello yells over the music as he touches the small of my back. "You get lost?"

"Uh, yeah," I say.

Marcello chuckles. "We're gonna step out for a bit," he says to Sarita. His voice is strong and self-assured.

Sarita looks at me strangely. Her eyes convey an emotion I can't describe right now, but I don't care what she thinks, I just need to leave this conversation, I need to leave her and Krystal and everyone else who knows too fucking much.

I'm so kissed, I barely feel my heels on the pavement as we walk into the night. My skin is vibrating and I'm warm and cold and I hold Marcello's hand because I don't know where I'm going.

It's all bullshit, and I'm an idiot for believing any of it. Julisa can't tell the fucking future, no one can. And tonight I'm going home with Marcello because my blood is pumping fast enough to make him beautiful to me, beautiful enough to make me forget things for a little while. Maybe this will go better than all the other times, and we'll fall in love and I'll forget I was ever dumb enough to believe in empty promises and chase something that never existed.


	35. Rebound

"I think all we have is almond milk."

"That's fine, I'll eat it dry."

Marcello grunts and pours the milk in his own bowl. He sits beside me and says nothing to me as we eat. The silence drives me crazy.

He was rougher in bed than the first time. I could practically feel Adelis's influence dripping from his fingertips when he touched me. He felt hardened, bitter. I wonder if he thought the same about me.

He's barely spoken this morning. Last night's vigor has been drained from his body, and I think his mind's racing behind his downturned stare. Geeze, what if I was such an exceptionally bad lay that it's making him reevaluate his life? I don't know if that would be horrifying or slightly flattering.

I want to ask for a ride back to campus, but I also don't want to prolong our weird, morning-after awkwardness any longer. "Text me when you get back," he says, waving lazily.

"Will do." I turn to the door and seriously considering sprinting back to Silverton, but before I can leave, the door opens and smacks me square in the face.

"Oh, fuck! My bad!" No, no, no, not that voice again–

"Damn, Sar, you took him out!" Marcello chortles as I hold my throbbing nose. "Way to make an entrance."

"Yeah, well, you know me." Sarita looks me up and down. "You okay?"

"Don't worry about it." I grab the door handle, desperate to get out of the apartment.

"Hey, Liam, did you like the party last night?" asks Sarita.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It was fun."

"Sorry we didn't play the last round," Marcello pipes up.

Sarita shakes her head. "It's fine. The competition eventually fizzled thanks to everyone's super-drunkenness."

I clear my throat. "Alright, uh, see you guys."

"Wait, Liam!" says Sarita. Dear Lord, how much longer must I endure this torture? "I think you left something at the house last night. It's outside, I'll come out and show you…"

I play along until we get outside and Sarita stops at the end of the driveway, arms crossed and lips pursed. "I didn't leave anything, did I?" I mutter.

She shakes her head. "Just wanted to talk to you alone. Anyway, now that that's cleared up, I have a question. Are you dumb?"

I blink. "No…?"

"Oh, really? 'Cause you sure act it, man." She glares at me. "Finn's your soulmate. Why are you fucking around with Marcello if you're just gonna hurt him in the end?"

"I–"

"And why not think about Finn for a second, huh? He's gonna find out you two are meant to be together, and then what? You just shrug him off and keep screwing around with Marcello anyway? Who is that helping? Not Finn, that's for sure–"

"What's with the overprotective mom act?" I splutter loudly. "We all deal with our own shit, Sarita. I know Finn really well– better than anyone here– and I know he can handle himself. He doesn't need a savior."

"Has he ever cried on  _your_ shoulder after sex 'cause he's trying to figure out why he hasn't spent more than two months completely single since he was in middle school?"

My stomach turns. "Was he on drugs when this happened?" Sarita opens her mouth, then closes it. "So, yes?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. I'm just saying that's how he  _really_  feels," she shoots back.

"Okay, cool, but I still don't get why you're so invested in his life. You even said last night you only kept him around because you felt bad for him."

Sarita sighs, her angled features softening like she regrets saying a few things to me already. "Look, I'm not an 'overprotective mom,' but I've had enough experiences with slimy guys to know what's up. And even though I could probably go the rest of my life without seeing Finn again, my point is that I'm worried about Marcello." Her tone wavers. "He's one of my closest friends. I love him to fucking death. So I'm not gonna ignore that you're screwing with his feelings,  _especially_  when he's still in a relationship."

I give her a look. "Marcello told me he broke up with Adelis."

"Really?" she asks incredulously. "That just happen or something?"

"That's what he said."

"Oh," she breathes. "Okay, well, doesn't change the fact that you  _know_ who you're supposed to be with, and it's not Marcello."

I pause to take a deep breath. "Do you really believe that stuff?"

"Do you not?" Sarita asks. "You're the one who went to Julisa in the first place, dude."

"I'm starting to think it might be bullshit." My voice shakes as I admit it out loud, and I feel a sudden sensation of fright immediately followed by relief.

Sarita studies my features. "Probably is bullshit," she murmurs. "But think about it, man. Being told who your soulmate is– even if it turns out to be fake and pointless– it kind of changes your relationship with the other person, no matter what. It changes the way you think about them." I'm quiet. "Am I right or what?"

Of course she's right. "I guess."

"Great. Glad you agree. Are you gonna back off my best friend until you figure your shit out?" I scrunch up my face. She sighs. "Just, like, think about it."

"As long as you don't get with someone just because you feel bad for them again." Sarita's eyes widen. "Okay, that was harsh," I admit.

Luckily, she laughs it off. "I did like Finn for a bit. He was cool! But… we were kind of… super different." She makes a face. "Plus he never acted like he wanted to kiss me. It was weird shit."

"That's really weird," I mumble.

She exhales audibly and pats my shoulder. "Welp, sorry for coming after you so hard. I have a strict 'Zero Tolerance For Fuckboys' policy."

I frown. "You thought I was a fuckboy?"

"Oh, you're still on the radar, dude. Watch yourself." She makes  _I'm watching you_ hand motions and then dismisses me from the driveway. Why do I feel like I'm a high schooler who just narrowly escaped getting detention? More importantly, am I a fuckboy?

Contemplating my shitty character is curtailed by the comfort of crossing into Silverton. "Call off the search, boys! Our MIA prisoner of war has come home at last!" Finn exclaims as I walk into the room.

"I think it's one or the other," I say, shutting the door behind me. "Like, you're either MIA or a POW."

"Really?"

"I dunno, Finn. I'm tired and hungry and have never been enrolled in the armed forces."

"Right, right," Finn mutters. "What happened to you last night, anyway? Did you end up on the psychic lady's doorstep again?"

I toss my phone on my desk. "Spent the night at Marcello's."

Finn's eyes threaten to pop out of his skull. "You guys, uh, play checkers?"

"Nope."

"Parcheesi…?"

"We had sex." Feeling especially cool, I flop down on my bed.

Man, I don't think there's a way Finn could possibly look more shocked. "You– what?" he spits out.

I nod. "He finally cut the cord with Adelis."

"Oh… my God. Holy Jesus." Finn buries his face in his hands. "Holy Jesus-Christ-tapdancing-on-a-Bible-on-Christmas-Day. You, sir, are the definition of a rebound."

"Rebound!" I exclaim. "How about 'prospect he's been trying to re- _bang_  for like, ever?'"

"Dude, a cleverly disguised rebound is still a rebound." I roll my eyes at him. "So, without any unnecessary details, how was it?"

It's all fast and blurry in my mind. "Rougher than expected," I offer.

Finn stifles a shout in his palm. "'Lil Marcy's got a dark side! Did he handcuff you to the bed?"

"No."

"D'you think he wanted to, but didn't know how to ask?"

"Dude."

"You think he owns handcuffs? Be honest."

" _Finn_!" I say through my laughter.

"Okay, okay." Finn's sitting on the edge of his seat and leaning forward. "God, I mean, I had an inkling that you went home with someone, but like… Marcello? Wow. Plot twist. Is this gonna be a thing now?"

"Considering how awkward it was this morning, I hope not."

Finn smiles. "Damn. That would've been the ultimate revenge on Adelis." He starts to rifle through a drawer in his desk as he talks. "And speaking of revenge– we have plans tonight."

"Don't tell me you're going to drag me to another Anime Club meeting," I moan. "It was funny for the first five minutes, and then it just got weird."

"I will never scrub my mind clean of that one guy's extensive sexy girl pillow collection," Finn whispers with dead eyes before brightening up. "Don't worry, that's not the plan. The plan is… shall we say… a 'Schadenfreude Club' meeting."

"Oh, big foreign word club. Gotcha."

Finn finds what he's looking for in his desk and bounds up to me, brandishing a half-ripped piece of paper. It's a flyer for the final Male Call show– the same kind of flyer Finn tore off the bulletin board the other day. "I was doing my daily round of spiteful flyer-tearing on my way back from class and realized the date of the last Male Call performance is  _tonight_. I say we go."

Finn hands me the paper. The picture on it was clearly taken last semester, as Hadds and Adelis are nowhere to be found. Hassan, however, is looking especially peppy in his powder blue suit. "Oh, I get it now," I say. "It's 'Schadenfreude Club' because our good buddies from Burns are forced to act like they get along, and we'll be watching and loving every second of their pain."

"Exactly!"

"Well, damn, I can't argue with that logic."

Finn puts his hands on his hips. "Figured."

I look down at the flyer again. My eyes are greeted by Hassan's scary-big grin. I cringe. "Man, this would be so much better if we went high."

Finn whirls around, nearly knocking a stack of papers off his desk. "Did you say…  _high_?"

"I know, I know, it's a foreign concept these days–"

"We can make it happen," Finn says excitedly. "We've polished off dubs on our own!  _So_  many dubs, just you and I, remember? We can hit up whats-his-dealer-face and buy a dub and smoke it all before the show! We can do it!" Finn's out of breath by the time he finishes concocting his plan, and I haven't finished agreeing before he's sent a text to our old dealer.

Finn and I pick up the dub and go to the convenience store in town to buy a cigar to use as rolling paper. I watch Finn roll his first blunt in the bathroom of the Grab-And-Go Mart. It's misshapen and loose, but he smiles and asks me not to judge him, so I don't. We buy milkshakes before heading to the trails to smoke the blunt; predictably, he realizes I got the superior flavor and asks for a sip of mine, which turns into a mini-chug. I say nothing.

After finishing the blunt– Finn definitely forgot to pass it to me a couple times, so he's considerably more high than I am– we reach the theater and buy five-dollar tickets while Finn mutters about how  _making fun of people is_   _so damn pricy these days._ However, it's clear every dollar is worth it the moment Male Call assembles in the middle of the stage dressed in those  _damn_ powder blue suits.

Hadds and Adelis look exactly the same as the last time I saw them, but they seem like different people now, and it's not only because of their forced stage smiles. They take their places beside each other before launching into the first number, a mash-up of two mediocre pop songs that were popular four years ago. Holy shit, I bet Hadds is internally combusting right now just thinking about all the indie-kid cred he's losing. But if he  _is_  dying on the inside, he's not showing it; he's the epitome of excitement as he performs cheesy dance moves. Wow, emphasis on cheesy _._ Did they really just do un-ironic jazz hands?

After Male Call finishes the first song and the applause dies down, they rearrange themselves for the next number. Hassan walks to the front of the stage to welcome the audience to the show. He's grinning so wide, I'm scared he's getting ready to shove the whole damn theater into his mouth. "Hello and good evening, folks! My name is Hassan, and I'm the current president of Male Call–"

Finn smacks my arm repeatedly as he giggles. "'Sup Hassan? Can't room check us now, can you, dickwad?" he whispers to me.

"Damn, dude. This would've been the perfect opportunity to get fucked up in the room for a couple solid hours."

"And skip Schadenfreude Club?"

"I dunno if that title really applies right now." I motion to the stage, where Adelis is muttering something to a smiling Hadds. "They kind of look like they're getting along."

Finn squints. "Could be an act," he says. "Y'know, gotta keep it light and fresh for the kids."

The rest of the performance ranges from "girl band hit from the 90s (it's funny 'cause we're all dudes)" to "popular hip hop song, but rapped by a white guy." Finn and I clap when we have to, if only to cover up how hard we're snickering between songs. Man, the giggs are a  _bitch_ today, but I have a feeling this whole shebang would be hilarious sober, too.

"When will it end?" Finn groans after an *NSYNC medley that came right on the heels of Blackstreet's "No Diggity." "We gotta go, man. I can't deal with this much longer."

"Hold out for Hadds and Adelis's duet," I tell him.

"Alright, fine," Finn says, pouting. "But if there's one more cover of a hip hop song, I swear–" As if on cue, Male Call starts singing– and beatboxing– the beginning riffs of "Promiscuous." Finn groans and pulls his shirt over his eyes. "If a skinny white boy raps Timbaland's part, you owe me five bucks."

"No bet." I try to figure out which Male Caller is going to tackle the rap– the short guy with the faux hawk? The lanky one with the big glasses?– but I realize all my predictions are wrong the moment the group slinks behind two featured soloists. I gasp and pull Finn's shirt down so he can gape at Hadds and Adelis, who are facing each other with exaggerated bedroom eyes.

For the record, Hadds does Timbaland's part.  _How you doin' young lady, that feeling that you givin' really drivin' me crazy…_

Finn's jaw drops. Mine's been hanging open this whole time. "Well," I mumble. "I can see why Hadds would be mad at Hassan for putting him on this duet."

" _Shhh_ ," hisses Finn. Oh my God, I think he's actually liking this.

_Promiscuous boy, you already know that I'm all yours, what you waiting for?_

Hadds and Adelis aren't playing this for laughs like all the other dumb Male Call songs. With their intense glances and seductive body language, they legitimately look like they're going to fuck on stage. Did Adelis find his rebound, too? No, that's impossible. No way.

_You know what I want, and I got what you need…_

Hadds grabs Adelis's tie and pulls him in. Someone in the audience claps; someone else whistles– oh, wait, that's Finn. "What?" he says when I give him a look. "Maybe if we egg them on enough, they'll make out."

The show ends with the entirety of Male Call singing in the aisles before filing out into the lobby. Finn's still pretty high, so it takes him a bit to get his bearings so we can leave. "Where in fuck's name is my phone?" he shouts as I stick my head under our seats to look.

"Did you even bring it?" I ask.

"I don't know! Did I? Fuck!" he yells again. One of the professors from the music department stares at us. Finn makes direct eye contact with her until she turns away sheepishly.

"Pipe down, man," I instruct him. "I'll call your phone. Listen for it." I tap his name in my contacts.  _Ring. Ring._ "Hear anything?"

Finn furrows his brow. "No, I–"

" _Liam_! Long time no talk!"

I freeze at the familiar sound of Adelis's voice on the other end of the call. He's so chipper I want to puke. "Heeello," I draw out. "You, uh, found Finn's phone?"

"It was on the ground in the lobby. He's a clumsy motherfucker, isn't he?"

"Who is it?" Finn whispers, but his question is answered when Adelis walks into the theater, flanked by Hadds.

I hang up. Adelis frowns dramatically. "Aww, no 'bye'?" He extends the phone to Finn, who stifles a nervous chuckle as he grabs it. "Don't worry. We knew you guys were here the whole time. Finn has a distinct laugh."

"And Liam's  _shush_ es? Unmistakable." Hadds is smirking like he's asking to be punched.

We all stand there looking at each other, trying to figure out how to proceed. Predictably, Finn's the one to shatter the silence. "Well, look at this. The gang's back together again!" He is so obviously high, it's painful. "Great performance, you two. I mean it– you know, I was convinced you guys were gonna make out during 'Promiscuous.'"

Adelis lights up. "Of all the things I missed about you, I missed your flattery the most."

Finn blinks. "You missed me?"

"What, you guys didn't miss me?" Finn makes a noncommittal gurgling sound as I glare at Adelis. He folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. "Okay, guys, I'm sorry for being brutally honest. I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you guys, and it was wrong of me." I can tell it takes a lot of effort on his part to apologize. "Hadds and I have already kissed and made up, so can we  _please_ collectively get over this?"

I don't have any good options here. Either I stay mad at Adelis and Hadds– which means remaining relatively friendless and lacking substances– or I shove my grudge to the side and have a place to store illegal items until the end of the semester (at which point, I could always kick them to the curb). Lucky for them, I'm also high enough to be more forgiving than usual.

"Whatever," I sigh.

Adelis claps his hands together. "I'll accept that! How about you, Finny? We cool?"

"What did Liam say? 'Whatever?'" says Finn. "I agree with him.  _Whatever_."

I glance at Hadds and notice he's already looking my way. I don't know if  _collectively getting over this_  is going to fix our situation exactly, but it's a start. He nods at me. I return the gesture and instantly experience a pang of leftover guilt.

•

It only takes a few drinks at Burns to melt away some residual tension. Adelis and Hadds regale us with stories about Hassan and the other weird members of Male Call. Finn briefly talks about his split with Sarita and our daily runs and diner binges.

I try to blend into the background until Adelis singles me out. "What about you, Liam? Do anything fun lately?"

"Not really," I say slowly.

"Weren't you at Zeta Phi for the Beer Olympics?" asks Adelis. My pulse picks up. "I thought I saw you in the back of one of Sarita's Snapchats."

"Yeah," I admit. "I stopped by for a little bit."

"Did you see Marc? He said he went, too."

"Uh, yeah."

"Ugh, he was crushed when I said I'd be at an invitational that night. He wanted to be Team Canada," Adelis giggles. "I felt so bad when I had to ditch him. It probably wouldn't have been that fun, anyway. Canada just seems like a losing country, you know what I mean? Anyway, did you guys talk at all?"

"A little," I say. Finn coughs.

"Did he talk about how much he missed me? I was only gone for a couple nights, but he gets separation anxiety, the poor thing."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finn shift around uncomfortably. "Oh, well, I thought…" My voice trails off. How do I even put this?

Thankfully, Finn says it for me. "So, are you guys back together?"

Adelis snorts. "Back together? What do you mean by that?" he says with a chuckle. "Marcello and I never broke up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEEYYYY IT'S BACK-TO-BACK UPDATES TO SLIGHTLY APOLOGIZE FOR THE LONG BREAK IN THE ACTION. If you also keep up with any of my other stories, please know I am also working on those, too! Life has been hectic lately (I feel like I say that all the time but like... for real... it's true) but I'm finding time to write whenever I can.
> 
> Once again (and always) thank you for your support! I'm so thankful to have people who actually enjoy the shit I write and the characters I love. YOU GUYS ROCK.
> 
> (P.S.: Yo what's up with Craig/Dadsona in Dream Daddy, am I right? Can we just assume this story's the tale of their college days...? Jk jk jk. Finn would never subject himself to Craig's green smoothies tbh.)


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